A Ranger of the woods
by ThurinRanger
Summary: This is my story. The story of Thurin, the Ranger. A story wrought with mysteries, friendship, pain, love, and the odd bit of humor. Disclaimer: I don't own ANYTHING. no slash, T for extreme safety reasons, though it's probably more along the lines of Kplus NO NON-CANON ROMANCE(not legolas/OC, Aragorn/OC, etc)
1. Chapter 1

**Hello Everyone! It is I, ThurinRanger.**

**This is my story. **

**Esgalnoron assured me that people would be interested, so I will write it down here.**

**He told me that my life and my challenges were interesting and people would want to read about them.**

**So I sit here, during nightwatch(the irresponsible Ranger that I am), and write it.**

**Reviews are very appreciated. **

Warm October sunlight poured into the little boys' chambers.

Faramir's eye's flickered open.

He yawned.

Then it all came back to him.

"Boromir! Boromir!" He cried as he rolled his sleepy older brother out of bed. Boromir's eyes snapped open. He rushed out of the room and down the halls, Faramir trying desperately to keep up.

They skidded to a stop in front of the beloved bedchamber, tried to calm their excitement, and knocked. The door slowly opened and the little boys crept in. The air was thick, sad; nothing at all what they had expected.

Their mother lay, cradling her new baby. Boromir breathed a sigh of relief as Faramir rushed to the bed.

"No." Denethor growled, brushing Faramir away.

Faramir gazed up at his father in hurt surprise.

"No darling, let them come." Finduilas sighed softly, but her tone was firm.

Something was wrong.

Where was the usual happiness? The joy?

"Mama!" Faramir squealed in delight as he leapt onto her bed, followed closely by Boromir.

"My sons, now you have a little lady to take care of." Her voice was so weak they could barely comprehend it.

"What's 'er name?" Boromir asked, lightly touching the soft fuzzy head of his new sister. "I was thinking Fimil." Their mother whispered, thoughtfully.

"If you two are alright with that, of course."

Boromir immediately nodded, though Faramir gave it some careful consideration.

"I agree." He finally said after much meditation.

"It's settled, now go back to your chambers."

The boys had forgotten that their father was still there.

"Denethor." His wife gave him a meaningful look.

"You are too weak, they must leave you in peace-" He feebly protested.

"Darling, I must spend time with them now. Before it's too late."

Faramir's heart was suddenly filled with fear, but Boromir stopped him before he could say anything. Denethor retreated to the back of the room, and the boys obediently sat on the edge of the great bed.

"My sons," even talking was taking an effort now. "I now prepare to leave this world, but I leave you this sister; promise me that you shall take care of her and protect her." Faramir buried his face in the pillows.

"You can't go, you just can't!" He sobbed brokenly.

"It cannot be helped, love. Just promise me, both of you, that you will protect my little daughter, make sure she is happy.

Try to fill my place when I am gone.

Take care of your father, and watch over you're sister.

I love you both so much, I promise I will never forget you and I will always be in your heart if you keep me there." She ran her fingers through her sons' messy hair, and lay back with an exhausted sigh.

"Mama-" Faramir sobbed as he received her kiss for the last time.

"Goodbye my darlings." She whispered, as she bestowed the esteemed kiss on Boromir as well.

"Take care of little Fimil."

"We'll never forget you mother."

Seeing their father's murderous glances, the pair stumbled back into the hallway.

"Mama-" Faramir sobbed as Boromir held him. They sunk down against the wall, holding each other, trying to process what their mother had just told them.

Boromir swallowed hard, trying to stop the tears flowing down his face, as Faramir's muffled sobs penetrated the thick air.

Suddenly Faramir's frantic sobbing ceased to a disturbed sniffle as he heard his mother's silvery voice, weak as it was, cascade through the room and halls. The familiar lullaby, the one she had always sung to them.

Those comforting words.

Boromir peered into the room, hoping not to be spotted. There she was, though the room was dim, she seemed to be surrounded by a glorious, unearthly light.

She was cradling her babe, gazing lovingly into her small, soft face. She was singing for all of her children. Trying to help them to pull through this misfortune. And for a moment, it was impossible for either of the boys to feel truly sad.

Young as they were, they could perceive the aura of hope, happiness, and love pulsing from Finduilas.

And then the song ended.

A deathly silence filled the air.

Boromir gasped. He refused to believe it, but there was no doubting the unthinkable fact, as Denethor stalked out, a mask of anger, sadness, disbelief covering his face as he disappeared around the corner. Faramir began to move tentatively towards the door, but Boromir stopped him.

"No Faramir. We can't."

"But the baby!" Faramir sobbed as he tried to pull away from his brother's firm grasp. Just then, the boys' nurse came hurrying towards them.

"How is your-" She stopped, as she saw the looks on the boys' face's.

"No. No, she couldn't have..." The woman spluttered helplessly as she hurried into the room, then froze in disbelief.

"This last one was too much for her." The woman sighed huskily as she reluctantly removed the baby from the departed mother's arms.

"Poor woman, she knew she had not long to live." She whispered as she gently covered Finduilas.

Then she straightened up.

"Boys, go, alert the criers of the lady's death, I must find a way to feed this unfortunate babe." She said determinedly as she shooed the boys out of the room.

There was no need to alert the criers. They all knew from the look on the Steward's face as he stormed past them. Everyone had been nervous for Finduilas, everyone in the palace had known how weak Faramir's birth had made her.

:::::::::::::::

Boromir sat, staring forlornly at Fimil as nurse rocked her back and forth in her arms. Faramir lay face down on his bed, his muffled screams quieting to occasional sobs.

"I will protect her."

The sudden speech surprised Faramir, who looked up.

"I'm her big brother, and I will make sure nothing happens to her." Boromir continued determinedly.

"I'm her big brother too!" Faramir leapt up and sat beside Boromir.

"Yes, so we'll both take care of her. Mother will be proud." Boromir finished, as he put his arm around his little brother. Fimil was their's now, and they would fulfill their last promises to their mother, or die in the attempt.

::::::::::::::::::::

Denethor had grown rather surly, and had somewhat drawn himself apart from his children. If he had slightly disliked Faramir for weakening his beloved wife, he disliked Fimil even more, and nothing could ease his pain.

::::::::::::::::::::

"Help! Help!" Squealed the damsel in distress, as Boromir the fearsome Orc playfully threatened to tear her limb from limb.

"Night of Gondor, save me!" She giggled in despair as Boromir growled threateningly.

But the Night of Gondor didn't come.

"Faramir! Where are you?" Boromir called in frustration, as he removed the paper mask he'd been wearing to liven up the game.

"Wait here damsel." He sighed as he went off in search of his absent brother.

He found him amidst a pile of books.

"Faramir! You have forsaken your lady-love!" He cried in mock horror. Faramir looked at him quizzically, than he remembered.

"Oh, that, sorry. I forgot." He sighed apologetically as he grabbed his wooden sword and rushed to the rescue. His three-year-old sister was imprisoned between a few chests and a small bookshelf, screaming hysterically as Boromir had directed her to do. By now the servants had gotten used to it, and her screams for deliverance didn't put the whole house in an uproar as they used to.

Faramir ran fast but the Orc was faster, reaching the fair lady with the cheese-cloth veil before he could, and swept her up in his arms just out of Faramir's reach.

After much struggle, Faramir finally rescued his lady, and began to piggy-back her to safety.

As Faramir was rushing with Fimil away from the terrifyingly relentless Orc, he nearly nocked over Denethor.

"Oh, sorry papa!" Faramir apologized quickly as he gathered himself and little Fimil up. A dark shadow passed over his father's face. "I told you" he said, through clenched teeth, "not to let me see that girl." He growled viciously.

He both loved and hated his daughter. Delivering her had caused his beloved wife's death, but what made it worse was the fact that the girl looked so much like her mother. When he looked at her, he saw Finduilas looking at him, not his daughter.

When he saw her from behind, her long hair blowing in the breeze, he saw his wife. Fimil's long dark hair looked just like hers had.

But the part that gave him the most pain was that she was a rather weak child. She succumbed easily to illness and had a frail, slender figure. He had spent many a sleepless night hovering around the door to her and the boys' chambers, peeping in when he was sure nobody was watching, hoping that she would make it through this bought of illness.

Sometimes he was horribly afraid that she would die, and he hated her the more for it. She would not do at all as one of his children.

With a frightened look on his face, Faramir quickly dragged his little sister to their room.

Denethor called a servant to him. "I want you to take her when she is asleep, and leave her in the wilderness. To die." He said in a low, shaking voice.

The servant looked surprised.

"Who, my lord?"

"Fimil." He said the name with a catch in his throat that made the servant uneasy.

"You can't mean that, sir?"

"Question me not." Denethor growled at him menacingly as he stalked off. The servant was horrified, but dared not defy his lord.

:::::::::::::::::

"Boromir!" Faramir whispered anxiously as he shook his brother awake.

"Hmm?"

"Fimil's not in her bed, I think she fell ill in the night and they've had to take her to the Houses of Healing!" Faramir cried urgently, as he tumbled his brother out of bed.

They searched everywhere.

Few of the servants knew anything, but when they did, they kept their mouth's shut tight.

::::::::::::::::

**Esgalnoron has optimistically guaranteed me at least five rave reviews for this chapter.**

**That's what best friends are for, right?**

**Prove him wrong. Make it ten. :D**

**Any ideas? Drop me a PM. :)**

**Next chapter will be up tomorrow if I get at least one review. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**And here it is, as promised.**

**Huge thank you to my reviewers Triss Laterose, and Mirlasse!**

**Please review too! :D**

Thorongil trudged wearily through the woods, back to camp.

He had been hunting, but hadn't had much success.

A loud sobbing brought him back from that elusive deer, to the present.

He tensed.

What could that be? Cautiously, he made for the sound.

A little girl, of about three or so, was curled up in a forlorn heap on the forest floor, sobbing unhopeful calls for help. Thorongil rushed towards her.

"What is the matter little girl, are you lost?"

She stared up at him with big, round, grey eyes.

"I, I fell asleep," she whined brokenly as the Ranger knelt down beside her.

"and, when I woke up someone had left me here..." She sniffled even more, as she relived that horrifying moment, when she had woken, and realized where she was. Thorongil had heard of this kind of thing happening before. The girl's parents had probably been in great peril, such a great peril, that it was safest to leave the child in the woods, in hope of its survival.

"Come on," Thorongil said impulsively, as he offered the child his hand to help her up. She didn't move.

"let us walk back to my camp, I can find help for you there."

There was a pause.

"Could you carry me?"

This surprised the man.

"Why is that? You look old enough to walk on your own."

She shook her head sadly.

For the first time Thorongil noticed her small, slightly bent legs.

"I can, sometimes, but it is very hard, and I can only go a short distance, but I don't need to go with you. My big brothers are gonna come and carry me home." She said with confidence. Thorongil felt it his painful duty to tell the little girl the truth.

"I'm sorry, but you're brother's aren't coming back." That sure went well.

"Why not?"

"They're, at least I think, well," the man paused, unsure how best to break the news. A look of shock passed over Fimil's face.

"No! You can't mean that! You just can't! That's the same way they'd try to tell me about mother!" She sobbed, burying her raven head in Thorongil's cloak. He hoisted her onto his back.

"I'll take care of you, don't worry." He comforted as he made his way through the thick woods back to the camp.

:::::::::::::::::::

"Certainly not!" Exclaimed his captain, as Thorongil expressed his desire, indicating the sleeping girl in the corned of the tent.

"We have enough problems as it is, without adding a lame little girl to them!" He continued, frowning down on her.

"She's not lame, just weak. I can help her."

Captain Rainor snorted. "I'm sorry Thorongil, but you're going to have to find another place for her. You have duties. You can't neglect them now."

"What if I promised that you would never have to worry about her? She would be completely my problem, not yours."

Rainor looked skeptical.

"I'll get her to walk, and turn her into a first-rate Ranger!"

"Wait a second, there was no talk of her becoming a Ranger!"

"Well what else did you expect?" Thorongil could feel this becoming a heated argument. "I'll look after her." He added, in a cooled, calmer tone. "I'll see that she doesn't bother anyone but myself."

Captain Rainor pondered this a moment before he finally nodded. Though he had misgivings, it was obvious that the blood of the Dunedain ran in her veins, and his conscience would be eased knowing the hapless creature was taken care of, considering her bad fortune.

Thorongil warmly smiled his thanks, before bowing and quickly removing the girl to the tent he slept in.

::::::::::::::::::

"What have you got there?" Amathron asked in interest as he observed the little girl.

"I found her in the woods. Abandoned. I reckon most of her family's dead." Thorongil sighed as she awoke, and cuddled fondly in his arms.

"What's her name?" Cullastor the elder asked, as he carefully polished his knife.

"I don't know, what is your name?" Thorongil gently prodded Fimil, as she began to doze off again.  
Somehow, she didn't want to tell them her old name. Young as she was, she felt that her old life was behind her, gone forever for better or for worse.

"I don't want to tell you." She said at last, quite sincerely as she stared at the group of Rangers around her in fascination.

"I guess I'll have to give you one then..." Thorongil sighed thoughtfully. He had never been one for names, though he had somehow ended up with so many.

"How would you like Thurin? It means: Secret one."

"Alright." She replied with disinterest.

"Secret one? Why are you naming her that?" One of the men shook his head with indignation.

"I believe that names are not to be chosen lightly, and are of great importance." Aragorn retaliated, patting his new child fondly on the head.

"My big brother once thought that too..." She whispered sadly, as she let herself sink into the large, warm lap of her new caretaker.

"Should have named her 'melancholy one'." One man said casually.

Thorongil shot him the death glare.

"And what was your big brother's name?"

She kept her mouth shut.

"Fits her perfectly!" Amathron laughed, though it didn't quite sound like a laugh, it sounded too sorrowful.

:::::::::::::::

It had been three years since the day he had found Thurin in the forest, and Thorongil had decided to start work on her legs immediately; at the start he would have her walk for around ten minutes straight several times a day, no matter how much she protested.

::::::

I sighed and sank down against a tree. I had walked thirty minutes without faltering, but now I was completely exhausted.

As my adoptive father wandered off to see to other duties, I gazed longingly in the direction of the boys.

Of course, the moment the little men heard from their fathers about a _girl_, Arda forbid, getting to live with the Rangers, all the other little aspiring sons of the men insisted they get to live in camp too.

This had almost put Captain Rainor over the edge, but somehow Thorongil had wheedled and compromised until the Captain finally made his verdict: the boys could tag around the more permanent camps about half the time, if they did chores and stayed out of the way. The only way Thorongil had been able to convince him was the 'learn 'em young' idea, he assured him that the next generation of Rangers would be even better than the current one, but even with all of Thorongil's support, the boys were always treading on dangerously thin ice, especially when the Captain was around.

Right now they were playing a whole manner of games and appeared to be having the best fun of anyone.

I lay against the tree for a good five minutes, regaining my energy before rising, and calling to my friends.

"Hey guys! Over here!"

All the boys hurried over, they considered me their little sister.

"Wanna play?" Medlithor asked in excitement, as he called the other four resident boys of the encampment over.

"I suppose...what can I do?"

Despite my weaknesses, the boys always tried to find some way I could participate.

"How about you be the 'ready, goer' for our race?" Cullastor invited, pushing a stump to a convenient place by the starting line.

"Alright!" I beamed inwardly as I took up my seat.

The boys positioned themselves.

"Ready...GO!" I cried in delight, waving my arms back and forth as the boys raced away, touched the old elm tree, and in half-a-minute or so came crashing back. "Who won?" Heledhion gasped as he leant against a convenient boulder.

"Cullastor first, then you, then Esgalnoron-"

"And last me!? I don't believe it!" Medlithor growled lightheartedly as he shoved Cullastor into a thick bush.

"I demand a rematch!" Medlithor then declared in a regal tone as he then turned around and helped Cullastor out of said bush.

"Thurin?" Heledhion invited as he searched his pockets for apples.

"No thanks guys, I have other things I really need to do." I sighed as I turned to leave. On my way out I tripped in a shockingly shallow pothole, and would have suffered from a very painful and mortifying face-plant had it not been for Esgalnoron's quick reflexes.

"Got ya!" He grunted as he managed to grab me in the knick of time, stifling the surprised squeal which had already arisen in anticipation of the ground.

Esgalnoron was my best friend, and(resulting from the fact that he was always by my side)had developed some pretty quick reflexes for an eight-year-old(I managed to fall in to or trip over everything, even things that weren't actually there).

And now follows the (not so)short account of how we met and became best friends:

:::

One day, a few months after she had arrived Thurin was sitting against a tree, knotting wildflowers together, and braiding them into long, colorful, chains.

"What are you doing?" Asked Elgalnoron, who had only just been introduced to the camp.

"Would you teach me?" The boy had begged after she told him.

So, after exchanging names they each sat there quietly, making never-ending lengths of flower-rope.

Finally, Esgalnoron tied his like a circlet, and placed it on her head, saying:

"You are Thurin, Queen of Rangers!"

Thurin promptly tied hers similarly, placing it over his head.

"And you are Esgalnoron, King of Rangers!"

She laughed.

He laughed.

They covered each other in flower necklaces and bangles, and began galavanting in the field, looking for more.

As they searched, Thurin began singing an Elven lament under her breath.

"Let's not sing anything like that!" Esgalnoron cried in dismay as he fitted Thurin for a dandelion belt.

"Alright then!" Thurin cried as she broke into a light-hearted song about rabbits and hunters they both knew.

"Thorongil! Those children are going to bring all of darkness upon us!" Captain Rainor complained angrily as their singing wafted to his ears.

Thorongil smiled grimly.

"There are dark days to come, Captain, let them enjoy the light and happiness while they can. We will all need all the allies we can get in the near future, I'm glad she's found a friend."

And so lasting companionship was formed.

::::

"So, what important things do you have to do?" Esgalnoron asked dubiously as Captain Rainor loaded us each up with water skins to fill.

I gazed down at my feet shamefacedly.

"I don't know yet, but something better than being the 'ready...goer'."

Esgalnoron nodded understandingly, though sometimes he had trouble understanding Thurin's pain.

He was able to be sympathetic, helpful, but he doubted he could ever understand just how she felt.

After a few minutes of silence, I asked:

"Have you picked up any more stories?"

"About heroes? Not since this morning." He laughed as he kicked aside the rock waiting to trip me.

"Do you have any more duties this afternoon?"

"No, why?"

"Could you do with a swim?"

I loved swimming. It was the one physically involved thing I could do that set me completely free, nothing hurt when I swam. Yes, it did get a bit tiring after a while, but it was as good as it got.

Within seconds us little Rangers had stripped of everything but our undergarments and where chasing each other around in the cool, refreshing water.

**What did you think? Esgalnoron wanted me to re-write it portraying him as a big, muscular, adult Ranger. I am staying true to the facts. Deep apologies.**

**Thank you to Mirlasse for her wonderful idea! :D**

**Now I'm upping it: 2 reviews till next chapter! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm putting this story on hold until I finish 'Little hobbits, big trouble!'**

**I am posting this to make amends for all the chapter lateness.**

**:(**

"Why are you boys still here?" Captain Rainor asked suspiciously as he glared hard at Cullastor.

He referred to all of us as the 'boys', even me. I felt it was a step in the right direction.

"Where is Amathron? He should have taken you on your training patrol thirty minutes ago!" The captain growled as he summoned the rest of us over to him.

"Amathron is sick to his stomach." Cullastor said matter-a-factly as he filled his belt with weapons.

"Is he alright?" The Captain said, alarmed, he searched the camp with his eyes as if he expected to see the Ranger sprawled out somewhere on the ground.

"Don't worry. He's in the Healer's tent." Heledhion helpfully supplied as he slung a waterskin over his shoulder.

Rainor looked perplexed.

"I suppose Thorongil will just have to take you then."

Medlithor moaned miserably.

No one was in the mood for a patrol directed by Thorongil.

"Thurin! Esgalnoron! You two! Get over here! I'm leading the patrol!" Da called as he searched the clearing for us.

"Daughter!" He barked as he saw Esgalnoron and I sitting against a tree, both our head's buried in the same book.

"Rangers only read when the world is at peace." He smiled as he plucked the dusty volume from our fingers.

Everything hurt.

My knees hurt, my back hurt, my feet hurt, by hips hurt, my shoulder hurt, my thighs were chafed, my right calf torn by the unrelenting brambles; not to mention the sweat coating my body, dripping down my face.

Just a typical day in the life of a ranger. I was nearly thirteen, and this was the kind of thing I had been doing my whole life, except for a vague memory of a different time. All I could remember was that I had had two older brothers, no mother, and I didn't think I had a father either. But I wasn't sure, for there definitely was someone I had called father, but he didn't seem overly fatherly from what I could remember.

When I had asked the rangers who my family was and why they had left me to them they told me that when I was three I had been left alone in the woods.

When I had asked why they had left me, and if they were still alive they told me they probably left me because they thought it was my best chance of survival, and since they didn't come for me they were probably dead.

The Rangers had taken me in, making me one of them. I had grown up with them, and was the most comfortable in the Ranger lifestyle.

I sunk down against a tree as we decided to make camp for the night. We had been bushwhacking all day, mostly uphill, with only a hurried break for lunch.

My four other companions relaxed as well.

But only for a moment.

"Alright you guys! Thurin and Heledhion. You two clear the ground for sleeping, then go find water." Commanded Thorongil with surprising energy considering the training trek he had just lead that day. "Medlithor, keep watch, Cullastor, go forage for some food, while Esgalnoron-" He was interrupted by a disappointed groan from said Esgalnoron, who had hoped he'd been forgotten. Thorongil never forgot to assign jobs to anyone. Ever.

Thorongil shot him a stern glance.

"And, as I was saying, Esgalnoron, you are to make a fire, a small fire mind you, not like the last one, and see what you can cook up." The experienced Ranger instructed, as he spread his maps against the trunks of trees to form the next plan of action.

I bent over to grab a stick to clear, and winced as my muscle's screamed in pain.

With hard work I had become much stronger, in fact now I could go for hours on end without stopping, but everything still hurt afterwords.

"Thurin!" Esgalnoron motioned for me as we all finished our dinner of a terribly skinny deer.

"What." I sighed grumpily. I tend get grumpy whenever I am discouraged, tired, or in pain; the only person keeping me from becoming grumpier than I already am is Esgalnoron. I have found it incredibly hard to be grumpy when he's around, and even when I do manage it I always feel terribly guilty afterwards, and can't live with myself until I've apologized to him. He always smiles knowingly and forgives me, which is one of the reasons we make such good friends. We both have our weak points: I am easily susceptible to grumpiness, and, though he is a great fighter, lots of blood and disembodied limbs just about do's him in, and not only that, he doesn't even really want to be a fighter(he was shunned by many Rangers for this decision), he says that he wants to become an artist, and paint gigantic murals on those huge white walls in Minas Tirith.

It's pretty lucky that we can both forgive each other so easily, or else we would probably have no best friends at all.

"I was just thinking," he said in a slightly subdued manner, "your bandages are probably all soiled by now."

He was right. As usual.

I growled something inaudible before making my way over towards him.

Cullastor sat inclined gracefully against a tree, lost in the rapturously long battle-cry he was composing, he was always lusting after the fight.

Medlithor was asleep before he hit the pillow, or I should say the root; he could sleep anywhere.

Heledhion was slowly and methodically going through everyone's satchels, making sure we had all packed adequately; he was always worrying about technicalities such as food and water. We usually laughed him off, but, I must admit, his careful thought and preparation has gotten us out of a lot of tight places.

Thorongil was plotting out our course for tomorrow(though it was highly unnecessary, seeing as this was a training expedition only a few miles away from camp).

I sat on a pan next to the dying fire, staring intently at Esgalnoron's hair as he was removing the linen strips wrapped tightly around my legs and ankles, and binding new ones.

Esgalnoron's hair was an interesting thing. It went down past his shoulders and was horribly messy, but the interesting part about it was the color. In the bright light it looked almost golden, in the dark it appeared dark brown, but now, with the firelight dancing on it, it looked one minute light brown, the next dark red, the next muddied gold.

Esgalnoron's hair was a strange thing, and through all the years I had known him, I could never make out what color it actually was.

Some people had all the luck. My hair was always black, unless I tripped over the flour bag. Then I looked hideous.

"There." He sighed with satisfaction, pulling me from my dazed stare.

"Hmm?" I asked as I stretched out my back muscle by muscle.

"Thurin!" Thorongil barked in horror as he fixed me with his death glare. Thorongil was a very loving (but stern) father, yet he was a slightly imposing figure to everyone else.

"What have I told you about sitting on pots and pans? You going to dent them!"

"Sorry Da, I forgot." I hastily apologized as I dusted off the dejected pan and stuffed it into a muddy sack.

"You talked in your sleep last night again." Esgalnoron yawned as I awoke.

"Can't you ever remember your dreams?"

"Nope. I can only remember the ones in which there is no sleep-talking. Out of curiosity, what did I say?"

"Unintelligible."

"As usual."

My dreams where quite enigmatic.

They were usually based off something in the back of my mind, like one day when Thorongil taught me how to make flapjacks I dreamed about making them all night.

These dreams I could always remember when I woke up, more or less.

Sometimes I had dreams to reinforce my conscience, for instance, one night I went to sleep feeling very grumpily towards Esgalnoron, and I had one of those all-too-real dreams in which he died a tragic, bloody death before my eyes; I woke up crying dramatically and went to make sure he was still alive.

I had discovered when I was about eleven that I had an incredibly mild gift of foresight,

well, I don't even know if it could be called that. Just sometimes I had strong, unexplained feeling about things, which I always blatantly ignored, and which always lead to much trouble and broken glass.

I could sometimes feel when something bad was about to happen.

It was weird.

But then there were the dreams that I never remembered, but caused me to sleep talk.

I knew that Esgalnoron did know what I said in my sleep, and it bothered me that he would never tell me, but I had learned long ago to let it go(I'm so sorry about that, now that song will be stuck in _my_ head for eternity as well).

I thrust my dagger into my belt and strode casually out into the center clearing of camp, where I literally ran into The Captain.

"What's the matter?" I asked worriedly, for the look on his face frightened me.

"Disaster! A Ranger from a different company is in the camp!"

I sighed with relief. I had expected something much, much worse.

"We're doomed!" Captain Rainor wailed in despair as he leaned with his face imbedded in a tree trunk. He only assumed this position when he was in serious despair.

I heard Thorongil laughing nervously, as he showed the new fellow into camp.

It was strange, other Rangers visited other camps and companies all the time. On occasion, some elves even traveled with Rangers, but not with my company.

Rainor made some different excuse every time someone asked to come, or invited one of our company to their camp.

Never had their been a new face in camp, not since I had come.

If a different company found out about me, I wasn't sure what would happen, but I didn't want to find out.

I leapt behind said tree trunk just in time, as the new man was escorted into the enter clearing.

My mind screamed not to, but I couldn't help myself; after all, I hadn't glimpsed a new face in at least a decade.

I peeped at him from behind the trunk:

He had grim, set grey eyes; long light brown hair. He was tall, slim, yet muscular.

I was rather disappointed.

Thorongil was right, other Rangers looked exactly the same as we did.

The stranger raised his eyebrows at the rather disturbing sight of Rainor with his face buried in a tree.

"Captain!" Thorongil said loudly, dragging Rainor from his dazed trance of doom.

He handed the man off to The Captain, and, taking the hint, Rainor quickly invited him hunting with himself and some others.

"Esgalnoron!" Thorongil cried, as the two left.

Esgalnoron was on the scene immediately.

"You and Thurin go on a long, all day patrol." Thorongil growled through gritted teeth.

Esgalnoron nodded, he had seen the new Ranger with the Captain and knew all.

I slowly emerged from behind the tree.

"Thurin," Thorongil laid his hands on my shoulders, his tone worried, "I can't lose you now. Don't speak with him, if he speaks with you...think of something." He sighed as he handed us our longbows and pointed us in a direction opposite that of which the hunting party was taking.

I sighed heavily as we started off.

**Alright, there it is.**

**What will happen next? Give me your brilliant ideas! :D**

**Upon proof-reading this chapter, Esgalnoron informed me that his hair is dirty-blonde. Interesting. Right now it looks like terribly dark dirty-blonde, but that's because it's night watch and he's asleep.**

**He promised to personally see to any non-reviewing readers.**

**You know what that means, come on you guys!**

Huge thanks to Mirlasse, my faithful reviewer!


	4. Chapter 4

**Well, I finally finished Little Hobbits Big Trouble, but then I got some Crit without the Con from Borys68, so I was pretty discouraged. But, after recieving another follower and more pleased reviews I have decided to continue. Thanks all!**

"What are other Ranger camps like?" I asked as we stumbled through the thick bracken some six hours or so later.

"I've already told you." Esgalnoron smiled as he caught and saved me from another painful fall.

"They're pretty much the same, aside from little things, all caused, naturally, by you."

We sat down against a log for a few moments to give me time to rest my aching knees.

"They're all rowdier than us, they swim without clothes, they don't take 'resting breaks' in their treks, they're songs around the campfire aren't half as jolly..."

This talk went on for some minutes, broken only by silent grimaces of pain from myself as we bushwhacked deeper into the woods.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

Esglanoron frowned, gazing around him blankly. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach.

"Esgalnoron-"

"No! We're not lost! We're fine, I just, um-"

"We're completely lost!"

"No we aren't! Just follow me, and we'll be fine."

"And when Da finds our rotting bodies three years into the future, it will be your fault."

"Alright, alright! I will assume all the blame, just come on." He assured, unsheathing his dagger to help break through the bramble.

I muttered something very dark and deadly.

Esgalnoron pretended not to notice.

::::::::::::::::::::

"That's it! I'm stopping right now." I growled threateningly, refusing to move at all.

"Thurin! Come on!" Esgalnoron whined piteously, sliding the dagger back expertly into the sheath.

"No! You'll only get us more lost. I've never seen any of these trees in my whole life!"

"Ha! That's funny! You can't ever remember directions or anything!"

Thorongil found us three hours later, each sitting on a different side of a large tree, scowling.

"Thurin! Esgalnoron! Thank goodness I've found you!" He gasped, sinking down against said tree with relief.

"I'm sorry Da! We didn't mean to get lost!"

"Yes! It was all my fault!" Esgalnoron assured, coming out from his side of the tree.

"Well, come on." Thorongil assumed his usual gruff air as he led the two hurriedly back to camp.

::::::::::::::::::

"Why, Da?"

"Thurin, we've already gone over this. I will return as soon as I can."

"You'll be gone ages!"

"Esgalnoron can take care of you.

"But Da!"

"Thurin, listen, I'm sorry. I will return soon. I have urgent business to attend to. And you, my friend, have urgent spear throwing lessons to attend to."

I pouted sadly.

"Rangers don't even need to learn spear-throwing! It's ridiculous! Have_ you _ever had to use it?"

Thorongil hesitated.

"That's beside the point, Thurin. Amathron is your teacher, and he says that it is part of a well-rounded education."

"Since when has spear-throwing been part of a well-rounded education?"

"Since Amathron. Goodbye Thurin, I love you. I will return, and soon, if I may."

I sighed heavily.

"Goodbye Da. I love you too."

He smiled, kissed me softly on the forehead, and headed off briskly into the woods.

"And you better not get hurt or die or anything! I'll have you if you do!" I screeched as an afterthought.

He just chuckled.

"Good_bye_ Thurin!" He yelled over his shoulder before disappearing into the brush.

I shook my fists angrily, before running back, mad at him.

He was going away, for a while. There was something he wasn't telling me.

I growled angrily as I sat down heavily in a stump, feeling dejected.

"Thurin!" Amathron yelled, over the noise of Cullastor's battle cry/singing practice.

"For the last time! Rangers are men of stealth! We do not scream battle cries and songs as we rush into battle!" Captain Rainor yelled irritably, throwing a rock, quite immaturely, at the offender.

Cullastor pouted.

"Someday there'll be a wonderful opportunity. And I'll seize it. It will be splendid!" He retorted, stuffing the odes to victory he had been composing back in his cloak.

"Ha!" The Captain yelled back, upsetting a pile of pots, setting the whole camp in uproar.

"Yes, Amathron?" I yelled through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the mayhem around me.

"Spear-throwing practice!" He chirped merrily.

I was gonna gut him with his own spear if he didn't watch out.

:::::::::::::::::::::

Faramir buried his head into his pillow, trying to push back the tears that he knew were coming.

He was too old to cry, he just couldn't, but everything was going so wrong.

Things weren't supposed to go this way, everything was going to be so perfect when his mother had been expecting her third child.

Life had been very pleasant. Finduilas and Boromir had loved him very much, and Denethor had been considerably fond of him.

But then his mother died, and Fimil died. Father had grown terribly distant. Boromir was nearly always off doing his duty on the field.

Faramir stared regretfully at the soaked pillow.

He was going out with the Rangers tomorrow.

He had to be strong.

He would make both Boromir and his father proud of him.

He was going to fight, even though he didn't want to.

He picked up an immense volume of short stories of old.

Immediately after he had cracked it open, he wished he hadn't.

This was the book his father had thrown at him only minutes before.

He tried not to think about the fighting that must ensue soon.

He was going.

He was going.

He had to.

It was his duty.

He glanced down at the open book on his lap.

There was that story about the Kings of Arnor Fimil had loved so much.

He would read these types of stories to her every night, and then she would tell him about how great she would be. All the monsters she would kill, all the soldiers she would command.

She had told him that one day she would find the King, in fact, she had promised him that.

She had told him she would see the King return, she would see evil banished forever.

She had told him she would fight till the end of things, when no one else was listening she would whisper these to him, and then he would smile, and promise her his aid.

And when she looked away he would cry, because there was no hope she could ever do such deeds.

These memories were not helping him compose himself.

He had to stop thinking about such things.

He picked up his sword and gazed at it sadly.

:::::::::::::::::

I woke late the next day, finding Esgalnoron finishing the book we had begun some days before.

I rose, winced, and nearly cried out at the sudden pain from my knee. Esgalnoron glanced over in surprise at my cry reduced to a unintelligible sound.

"What happened?"

"Hurt. My. Knee. During. Spear. Throwing. Practice." I grimaced through my teeth desperately trying not to sound as if I was in pain at all.

"Do you need any bandage braces?"

"Just one on my knee. I can do it after breakfast."

I began to braid my hair.

Esgalnoron raised his eyebrows.

"Mine stay in years longer than yours."

"I know."

I undid my meager messy work and let him braid it for me instead, knowing that if I didn't he would give me disapproving looks all day long.

"Is that other Ranger still hanging around?" I asked as I stole the book and tried to grab a bit of reading time before we had to start work.

He shook his head.

I wondered how much reading I could cram in before late morning patrol.

Sadly, none.

The braid was only half done, when Dollion from the Ithilien Rangers ran into camp, breathless.

"The rest of the Ithilien Rangers need reinforcements! Immediately!" He nearly collapsed into The Captains arms, apparently he had sprinted the whole way.

"Everyone! Hurry! Where are they?" He supported the exhausted man as Rangers streamed out from all corners to his person.

"The river..." He choked out, as Rainor handed him off to the healer.

**DRAMA! What will happen next? I know, 'cause I already have it all written out, but you don't! Muahahaha! You must endure the evil cliffies, sorry. I would recommend following, so ya' don't miss an update. :D See you next chapter, I live on reviews, so, yah, please don't let me die. Please!**

**Note to any more peoples feeling the ridiculous urge to flame me: Esgalnoron has offered to personally skin alive, tie to a tree, and pummel to death any offenders. So yeah, watch out.**

**Thurin**


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm back, I've been gone ridiculously long, you could say I've been sidetracked. :P**

**ok, no more oneshots, I am fully committed to this story, I will not write anything else until I finish it, and that's a promise. :)**

**Alright, this is super long, your welcome. :D **

The fight had already begun when he took the message, judging by the arrow in his leg.

I dropped the book and slid a longsword into my belt.

Esgalnoron stopped mid-braid and rushed for his quiver.

"You boys! Get with Amathron!" Rainor called as he hurried out of the clearing with his Rangers behind him.

Amathron trained us 'boys' the most, and was our unofficial keeper.

"Boys! Hurry! After me!" He called in his loud, deep voice, slipping through the trees signaling for us to follow.

We ran, breathless, through the woods, hoping we wouldn't come too late.

Every time I put weight on my knee, a terrible pain raced up through my leg.

That wasn't new, certainly not.

My unfinished braid flapped behind me as we ran at a break-neck pace.

It was so fast that Medlithor ran into a tree.

Please don't laugh, he is still sensitive about it.

::::::::::::::::::::::::

After running for nearly a whole hour, we broke through the trees.

The battle was over.

We were too late.

The Rangers had lost.

Bodies littered the ground.

Thankfully, it had only been a small detachment of men that had been there, but it was still very unfortunate.

"Search for survivors!" The Captain called out hoarsely, crouching beside a fallen man, checking for a pulse.

I ran across the field, lifting up bloodied faces, hoping for life where there was none.

Esgalnoron just stood there, frozen.

He tried to make himself move, but he could not.

There was blood on his boots.

There was blood on his hands as he knelt down to see if a man was really dead.

His head began to spin, he felt himself heating up, his legs shaking.

Then he saw a head.

A man's head, staring at him, without a body.

His stomach flipped.

He stumbled, but managed to pick himself up.

And then he saw the remains of an Orc.

The insides, and the outsides.

::::::::::::::::::::

They had found one survivor so far.

I ran wildly from body to body, checking for pulse, anything.

I found nothing.

Then a raven mop of bloodied hair caught my attention.

I rushed over and knelt down, feeling the blood of a dead Orc seep through my pant leg as I did so.

I grabbed the hair, turned over the face.

It was smudged with blood, badly bruised, but I could tell that he was young, he couldn't be a fully grown man yet, though he looked nearly there. But then the eyes cracked open for a second.

My heart skipped a beat.

"Amathron!" I called, my voice weighted with joy, "A survivor!"

Amathron and Cullastor rushed over and lifted the man up and began to carry him.

And then I remembered.

Esgalnoron. Oh no.

I had completely forgotten about him!

I rushed back to where I had last seen him.

He wasn't there.

After much searching I finally drew back a bush to find him: his knees drawn up to him, his head resting pathetically on them.

I could see that he had been sick, but I was glad, considering that last time he had been rendered unconscious.

"Esgalnoron!" I cried as I dropped to my knees, wrapping my arms tightly around him.

He shook uncontrollably for a moment before he could lift his head.

"I'm so sorry I forgot about you!" I felt so guilty as I helped him to his feet, helped him to lean on me.

"I'm sorry, I tried so hard." He croaked, putting a hand to his head.

I placed an arm steadily about his waist.

"Cover your eyes. We're going back out."

He groaned but obeyed, and we broke through the bushes and made our way back to the rest.

Everyone stumbled slowly back to camp.

The three survivors were carried, and Esgalnoron leaned on me though he insisted he did not need it.

I convinced him that he did.

It took about three hours to get back, and when we finally did everyone was exhausted.

"Esgalnoron," I said as I lay him down back in camp, "you need to rest, in an hour you'll probably feel back to normal."

He didn't protest and was soon fast asleep.

"Thurin, you should rest a bit too. I can easily tell that you've hurt yourself someplace or other." Amathron chuckled as he pushed me down, despite my best efforts against him.

"In _your_ spear-throwing classes."

He just chuckled some more.

I sighed as I leant back against the tree.

:::::::::::::::::::

Esgalnoron woke up about an hour and a half later, feeling wonderful.

"I don't know what comes over me." He sighed, embarrassed, as I asked how he was doing.

"Esgalnoron," I said after I was sure he was alright, "I am going to go check on the survivors-"

"And I'm coming too." He grinned in an 'I'm stronger than you and you know it so don't try to stop me' kind of way as we headed over towards the tent.

Those grey eyes had been in my mind ever since I had a glance of them a few hours ago.

I needed to see him, though I knew not why.

When we entered the tent I walked right past the other beds.

I had seen him, lying unconscious in the far corner.

As I looked at him I gasped.

"What is this man's name?" I asked our healer, my breath coming in ragged gulps.

"He looks to be Faramir, son of Denethor. He has had a concussion, but I think he will be fine.

I choked.

"What's the matter Thurin?" Esgalnoron asked worriedly as I fell to my knees beside Faramir.

I tried to speak but I found that I couldn't.

"Thurin!" Esgalnoron said again, his voice had slightly risen.

"Faramir." I managed to whisper, tears streaming down my face as I brushed the hair from his face.

"Faramir!" I finally sobbed, laying my shaking head down on his chest.

::::::::::::::::::::::

Faramir didn't quite know where he was.

His head hurt terribly, his body felt as if it was weighted down with rocks.

He couldn't remember why he felt this way.

Had he suddenly fallen ill? Had he fallen?

And then he felt a hand.

He felt a hand carefully stroking his head.

Pushing the hair from his face.

What hand was this?

It felt like Finduilas' hand.

It was soft, gentle, yet worn. Not worn from age, but from work, weakness. Maybe even sickness.

He must be ill.

Finduilas was taking care of him.

He wondered if Boromir was sick too, no, probably not.

He wanted to see his mother, he tried to open his eyes.

There she was.

Her long raven hair was pulled back in an unfinished braid.

Strange.

Mother never wore her hair that way.

Faramir brushed the thought away.

There were her eyes. Grey, deep eyes.

There were tears on her cheeks.

"Faramir," she whispered hoarsely as he opened his eyes.

Something wasn't right.

Finduilas' voice was older, more light. Airier.

"wake up. It's me." She choked on her own words.

Suddenly memories flashed before his eyes.

Finduilas was dead.

Fimil was dead.

He had been knocked out in the fight, he was imagining things.

"Mother?" He managed to ask weakly.

She shook her head, a tear escaped her eyes and slid down her cheek.

"Fimil?" Faramir whispered, afraid of the answer.

She smiled, and nodded.

"I thought you were dead. Does this mean I'm dead?" He croaked unbelievingly, trying to rise.

She pushed him back down.

"No. But I thought you were dead too." She sobbed, wrapping her arms around him.

::::::::::::::::::::::

Esgalnoron didn't know what to think.

He had always thought he knew, but now it was a certainty.

Thurin was the youngest child of the Steward of Gondor.

Everything was going to change now.

Her brother was going to take her back, she would become a lady.

And he would be alone.

He had always known this would happen.

She had always talked about them in her sleep, it was just a matter of time before she found them.

He had left them alone in the healing tent, it was the polite thing to do.

He hadn't told Amathron, or Rainor, or anyone about it. Thurin could do that when she was ready.

She was no longer his any more.

Before, he had always taken care of her.

He had kept her warm at night by sleeping back to back with her, he had done her braid, he had bandaged her legs, he had caught her when she tripped.

Ever since he had first met her, he had felt a certain responsibility for her.

After all, he was four years older than she.

They had been the small ones who took care of each other.

He realized with anxiety that Thurin would have a much larger chance of tripping herself up in a dress than in her simple Ranger garb.

She'd probably catch cold sleeping all alone in Minas Tirith.

He couldn't stand it any longer. Courtesy or not, he had to know what was going to happen.

:::::::::::::::::

"Fimil, how did you get here? What are you doing in a Ranger camp?" Faramir asked, now he was able to sit up and think clearly.

I laughed: "I am a Ranger, Faramir. And my name's Thurin."

Faramir's eyes widened.

"How? How is is that possible?"

"I'm stronger now. Esgalnoron and Da helped me."

"Da?" Faramir was confused.

"Thorongil. He is one of the Rangers here, he is like a father to me; but Esgalnoron sort of raised me too I guess. They mean the world to me."

Faramir looked troubled.

"I think you should stay here Fimil, I mean Thurin."

"What do you mean?"

He shook his head.

"You seem happy here. If you are really stronger, I think it would be best if you stayed here for the time being. Father is, well, terribly changed. In fact, I don't think we should tell him at all. But Boromir, he loves you so much. He will be home in a few weeks. You and I could journey to Minas Tirith to meet him. We could stay out of father's way, and then come back here."

"I can't hide forever, Faramir"

"I know, this will just be an arrangement for now. When does the healer think I will be well?"

"Within two weeks."

"Good. How are the others doing?"

"They are both going to be fine."

"That's a relief. Those Orcs came out of nowhere."

I nodded. I knew that feeling far too well. The shock when you feel safe, and then they are upon you.

I also knew the thrill(that Faramir most certainly did not have), when you grab an Orc and wrestle the dagger from its hands.

"You're so changed." Faramir sighed, running his hand over my cheek.

I smiled.

"So are you. I don't remember that stubble last time I saw you."

He laughed. "Just wait 'till you see Boromir! He's so big, and strong, well he always was, but even more so!"

It was easy to see that one thing sure hadn't changed: Faramir's adoration for Boromir.

The more I talked to him the more I remembered.

I remembered our chambers, my rag-doll; I remembered Boromir's blunted sword which he had overly treasured.

There was a brief pause.

"Have you told them?"

"No. But Esgalnoron knows. He was here when I recognized you."

"You have to tell them Fi-Thurin."

I sighed. I had been putting it off.

Of course everyone suspected something, I had been in this tent for nearly four days straight after all.

Faramir looked at me in that way he has. The way he always did when I did something naughty as I child.

"All right! I'll go. I'll tell them." I sighed.

He nodded in approval as I rose and headed for the tent flaps.

"Captain? Captain, where are you?" I called casually while I searched for something to eat.

I hadn't eaten anything yet all day, and it was just getting to me.

"Thurin?" Esgalnoron hurried up, appalled at the sight of me, and began fishing through our satchels for a comb as fast as he possibly could.

I noticed that he was avoiding my glance.

"What's the matter?"

At last I found an apple.

"Nothing's the matter." He smiled forcedly as he yanked me up by my hair, and began to comb it aggressively.

"There is something the matter." I winced as I tried to snatch the comb from his hands.

"No there isn't." He began to braid it to the side.

"Yes there is." I twisted around, trying to grab his hair, which went down far past his shoulders. I succeeded, and tried to yank the comb through it.

He laughed as he snatched the long lock from my grasp, finishing the fine braid with a flourish.

Then he assumed a more serious air.

"Thurin, we need to talk."

"I know."

He entwined his arms with mine and we sunk down against the tree.

"I'm the youngest child of the Steward of Gondor."

"I know. I've always known."

I looked up sharply, surprised.

"What do you mean?"

"You talked in your sleep about it. I put together the pieces."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked in a hurt air.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't sure, and, and...I just..." He sighed.

"I understand."

Esgalnoron turned his head away.

"I guess this means your going to Minas Tirith now? This is the end?" His words were more a statement than a question.

"No. I will travel with Faramir to see Boromir, but I won't stay."

Esgalnoron's eyes lit up.

"Wonderful!" He crowed in delight as he spun me around and around.

"Where is Captain?" I breathed once I had recovered myself.

"Consulting Amathron or something about patrols."

"Thanks." I hurried off in the direction of the Captain's tent, just as Rainor emerged.

"Captain!"

"Thurin! What's going on?"

"Rainor, I've found my family. I'm the youngest child of the Steward of Gondor."

Captain's eyes widened with surprise.

"Faramir is my older brother. We are leaving for Gondor when he is well, but not for good, don't worry!" I cried, seeing his alarmed look.

"Won't the Steward want you back? You are his daughter, after all."

"Not really, I'm not exactly welcome there. You are my Captain. You always will be."

He enveloped me in an enormous bear hug.

I was rather surprised, the Captain usually tried to restrain himself from such shows of emotion

"Captain?"

"Yes?"

"Don't tell anyone, please? I don't want to be a lady of Gondor in their eyes. I want to be Thurin the Ranger."

"As you wish." He nodded curtly, releasing me from his grasp.

::::::::::::::::::::::

"Goodbye Thurin! See you soon! Promise to take extra care of your braids!" Esgalnoron waved madly as Faramir and I hurried off.

"I know, Esgalnoron! You've already reminded me! I'll be back very soon! Wait for me!" I called back, before making my way into the dense brush.

:::::::::::::::::::

"I can't believe I've found you! I can't believe it!" Faramir smiled as we forded a small river.

"I've missed you all terribly! It will be wonderful to see Boromir again!" I sighed as I slipped on a rock and went down.

Faramir looked alarmed for a moment, before helping me back up.

"Happens all the time." I assured, wringing out my sodden clothing, sadly glancing at the empty space beside me where Esgalnoron usually was.

He smiled.

"You always were one for tripping and falling."

And so our journey began. It wasn't particularly long, but it wasn't a skip in the woods either. We were ambushed by four Orcs along the way, who were quickly subdued by our swords and daggers. If there's one thing I have to my credit, it's fast reflexes. Lightening fast. Almost as fast as Esgalnoron's(Esgalnoron has unbelievable reflexes, I suppose I have trained him well).

It was rather awkward, though. I hadn't seen Faramir for ten years, and things can change drastically over ten years. There was many quiet night around the campfire, both of us hoping the other would speak. There were many long silences which we endured as best we could. It was like seeing an old friend you haven't seen for ages, for ten years is a long time to be apart.

:::::::::::::::::

"We're here! The lovely white city!(though I prefer the seaside myself)" Faramir proclaimed as we beheld its splendor.

My eyes widened. I had very, very vague memories of the city, but not even Faramir's exited explanations could prepare me for what I saw: It was massive, towering high over everything in sight.

"I don't think I can do this." I whispered nervously, cities always make me nervous.

"Nonsense, we cannot deny Boromir the pleasure. Come on."

:::::::::::::::::::

"Faramir!" Boromir cried in delight, practically attacking his little brother with excitement.

"We thought you were dead!"

The brothers just held each other for a moment in tender embrace, tears in their eyes.

Then Boromir noticed me, standing some distance away, waiting expectantly.

"And who's this lady you brought back with ya'?" He asked teasingly as he approached.

Suddenly he froze in shock, just staring. His mouth fell open.

"No. No!" He said after a moment, a look of confusion on his face. "No! This is some cruel joke! I will not have it!" He fumbled in a distressed way waving his hands wildly.

"Boromir, do you not recognize me?" I whispered, staring into his troubled eyes.

He softly grabbed my shoulders.

"It _is_ you! It must be!"

"Boromir!" I cried with delight, as we embraced happily, finally reunited.

"We better not tell father." Boromir whispered worriedly as we released.

I nodded.

"Boromir, I can't stay here. I will go back home to the Rangers soon."

Boromir's jaw just about hit the the floor.

"What do you mean?! Ranger? What? You must be joking!"

"It is a long story, I could tell you it now-"

"Where can she stay, brother?" Faramir asked worriedly, peering anxiously down the corner as if afraid Denethor might appear at any moment.

"Fimil, you'd best assume Ranger garb once more and stay at a nearby tavern. That would be safest. I think you should return to your camp soon though."

"I'm Thurin now." I said, before nodding sadly.

"Come on! We'll give you a tour of the city!" Announced Faramir brightly, taking my arm and leading me out of our chambers.

Boromir hurried behind, claiming my other arm.

The servants were rather befuddled at the sight of Boromir and Faramir, compassionately leading a suspicious looking Ranger through the halls. They decided not to think on it.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

"I can do it on my own Faramir! I'm fourteen now for heavens sakes!"

"Barely fourteen. Are you sure you'll be alright? And it's snowing too, you'll catch cold."

"Positive! I know these woods like the back of my hand! I won't catch cold, how could I?"

This conversation lead to a long, painful, ridiculous, completely lost, very cold, and rather tiresome journey home.

Esgalnoron was going to murder my once he found out I'd done it along. Woe is me.

::::::::::::::::::::::::

"I can't believe you stayed so long!"

These were the welcoming words I received from my best friend as I stumbled into camp weeks later, cold, shaking, hungry, and tired.

"I'm excited to see you too, Esgalnoron."

He glared at me darkly.

"And you celebrated your birthday without me? Unbelievable."

"Humph. If you want to be that way, be that way. I am going to find something warm and go to sleep." I growled venomously, wrapping my cloak around myself more tightly before hurrying off towards Medlithor, maker of the best stew you've ever tasted.

Esgalnoron just bent over his work, ignoring me.

Sometimes I hate him.

But everything changed that night when I was curled up against a snow-free tree-root, full of stew and wrapped in a new cloak.

"Esgalnoron?" I whispered, tapping the sleeping Ranger's shoulder timidly.

His eyes cracked open, and he glanced up at me, eyes questioning.

"I'm sorry, about what I said to you. I was tired, and cold, and my ankles hurt like the halls of Mandos, and, just sorry."

Esgalnoron smiled to himself before replying, "I knew you'd come around, you always do. But I'm sorry for being stubborn on my end. Forgive and forget, right? And don't use such language, what would your Da think?"

"Has he returned yet?" I asked hopefully, running my hand through the snow-covered grass.

Esgalnoron shook his head.

"I just wish he would tell me. About everything. I feel like he keeps so much from me, though I know he can't tell. Esgalnoron, sometimes I get this weird feeling, that, oh, it's nothing."

"That what?"

"Sometimes, when I talk to him, I get this weird feeling, that he's the one, the King." I whispered, my voice barely audible as I shared the awesome thought my mind had been cultivating for some years now.

Esgalnoron's eyes widened.

"I've always made it my personal mission to find him. Yet, somehow, it feels like he's been under my nose this whole time. What do you think?"

"I don't know, but, now that I consider it, he does seem rather like you say at times." Esgalnoron felt it time to change the subject.

"How was it, seeing your brothers for the first time in, what, nine years?"

"Ten. It was strange. They don't really know me, I don't really know them, yet I do! Ah, it is so strange."

Esgalnoron nodded.

I yawned hugely.

"Thurin, you should sleep. There will be plenty to do tomorrow morning."

"Why is that?"

"Have you not heard? We must move camp tomorrow."

"Why is that? Has some new threat arisen?"

"I do not know, we must go near somewhere called 'Hobbiton'."

I sighed.

"See you tomorrow morning, assuming we are all alive by then."

"Same."

::::::::::::::::::::::

**They're going to Hobbiton! *gasp* Will they even make it that far? Is Thorongil indeed the King? How will Thurin re-forge her lost relationship with her brothers? What of the quest to destroy the Ring, when will that happen? What about Thorongil, where has he snuck off to? Excitedly await the next chapter!**

**:D**

**Please review, It's the only reward I can get for my hard work, it's the only way I can know that anyone cares. ^.^**

**~Thurin**


	6. Chapter 6

**And I'm back, two days later! :D**

**You're so very welcome, sorry for being so evil at the end of last chappie, but it got you to come back. XD Oh my evil strategies...**

"Should we be worried?"

"Not until Thurin comes down with it. Come on, everybody, get moving!"

So started the long and painful trek to "Hobbiton", which nobody had ever heard of before. Except maybe Captain Rainor, but he did not bother to explain.

"What are they worried about?" I asked sleepily, pulling on my boots.

"Last night a man came down with a bad cough, and this morning another has it."

"Oh."

It was an unwritten medical law in camp that no apparently spreading illness was to be worried about until I came down with it. The reasoning behind this law: with my weak immune system I could get almost anything, and so it was assumed that if I didn't get it there was a low chance anyone else would.

What do you expect? I was living in a group of men.

"Come on, let's keep our distance." Esgalnoron steered me to the tail end of the group, away from the ill men.

The absurdness continues: it was also assumed that if I was prevented from catching something, then no one else would. This assumption had led to Esgalnoron and I camping in isolation for days on end. Ah, the joys of having Rainor as your captain.

"Do you have the slightest clue what or who Hobbiton is, and why we are going there?" I asked Esgalnoron as we made our way, quietly, in Ranger-fashion through the thick snow.

"No, none at all. I think it is a where though, not a who."

"Mm, How far is it?"

"I don not know, but it is far."

"Maybe we will meet Da on the road."

"I doubt it. He went the other way, remember?"

I sighed. I loved Thorongil very much, he was my father, the only parent I had ever known.

"Why does he always have to go? It simply is not fair!"

"Thurin, stop acting childish. We all have duties, and we must fulfill them, daughter or not."

"He could have taken me with him."

"Mayhap he will, when he returns."

I scowled at the ground.

"He cares more about his nasty duties than about me, this is not the first time he has gone."

"I know that, Thu,"

I glanced up, Esgalnoron rarely used that nickname anymore.

"he does care. But he carries a large weight on his shoulders, he has more duties than most. He tries, Thu."

I felt an icy tear drip down my cheek.

"What do you mean?"

"He has told me."

"I am sorry. I really am." I bit my lip hard, hoping he wouldn't notice my tears.

Esgalnoron slowly took my wrist in his hand, and smiled, walking faster to catch up with the others.

"It is alright, I understand. It is alright to be sad. You look beautiful when you cry, you know?"

I knocked him with my hip, frowning threateningly, before dragging him along faster.

He just smiled warmly, taking no notice of my show of violence.

"You two, keep quiet back there, we are in dangerous territory now." Amathron whispered sharply, shooting the offenders(us)very nasty glares.

::::::::::::::::::::

"What was it like being in company with lords? Do you think they would appreciate my battle hymns?" Cullastor whispered excitedly as we began to pitch camp for the night.

"Um, well," I hadn't the heart to tell him that I hadn't actually been much in the company of lords, "I am sure they would have enjoyed your songs very much."

Cullastor beamed.

"One day, I will share my songs with the world and everyone will sing them, and never forget them." He sighed happily as he lay his head down on Medlithor's shoulder.

I nodded, his songs were actually very impressive if one managed to hear them in their drawn-out entirety.

"Thurin," Esgalnoron whispered, handing me a very dubious looking dish of food.

"Oh, perfect, Heledhion on supper duty, just what everyone needs." I sighed, electing not to eat it.

"It actually did not turn out quite so bad this time, try it,"

Heledhion was actually a very good cook, but he always felt the need to experiment, to provide us with delicacies in the wilderness. Now, if he was ever cooking in a proper kitchen with a properly stocked larder he would craft wonders, except, the wilderness was not exactly a well stocked larder. He always had to substitute, leave out, and forage for his own ingredients.

"it looks like cow manure."

"It is, in fact, not. He sliced up some vegetables, and fried them over open flame with water. They are like little fritters, I guess."

I frowned, took a cautious bite, and swallowed.

"Not the best choice of vegetables, they pair terribly with each other."

"I know, but it is a miracle he found any at all."

"Is this the only choice?"

Esgalnoron nodded.

I sighed.

"I suppose the aren't too bad. Thanks for bringing me some. But where did he ever find the grease?"

"Animal guts."

I choked.

Esgalnoron smiled before leaving me to enjoy my meager, bitter dinner.

"Orcs! To arms, Orcs!"

Medlithor dashed out of the clearing to Rainor's aid.

I dropped my vegetable fritters, and reached for my sword.

It wasn't there. Ugh, I had left it with my pack over there...

Seeing three good sized Orcs charging me I reached for a large stick, for I was best at staff-fighting, though as a Ranger I rarely got the chance.

"Aaahhhhh!" I yelled as I held the large stick/staff threateningly, believe it or not, I fight better when I yell.

"Cullastor, cover me!" I charged them, swinging the heavy stick and so knocking the first one out. My next swing was stopped by the largest's sword.

He glared at me, his evil eyes boring into me.

"Die, Ranger, DIE!" He swung his sword wildly, but Cullastor intercepted it just in time. I barely had the time to shoot him a grateful glance before the third engaged me.

Now for the hand-to-hand combat, my favorite form of fighting.

Clenching the staff on each end, knuckles white, I swung wildly, warding off each of the many blows he rained upon me.

Now, do not assume that I was an amazing fighter, for I was not, but I was still a skilled one. Growing up in the wilderness with Orcs around every turn really did something for you, let me tell you that.

Things were looking very good for Cullastor and I, we were easily defeating these last two Orcs. But then Amathron, Heledhion, and Esgalnoron darted in, pursued by eight more.

My eyes widened, we were outnumbered, and things did not look good considering that four out of the five of us were still in training.

Heledhion had soon beheaded one, Amathron had gotten another in the stomach, and Esgalnoron and I had killed one together: I knocking him unconscious, and Esgalnoron shooting him with an arrow.

Cullastor was locked in combat with a small but nimble Orc while I was busy dodging a very aggressive one's blows.

Heledhion was fighting two at once, Amathron was engaged with the other two, while Esgalnoron darted about sniping them off with his bow and arrows.

My Orc swung so quickly and wildly at my head that I did not even have time to engage him, just dodge.

"Watch out, Thurin!" Esgalnoron called as he shot him in the waist. The pain only made the Orc swing more wildly. Fear rose in my throat as I realized that it was just a matter of time before this huge, aggressive, overbearing Orc's sword made its mark. One thing I really did not do well with in fighting: Overbearing opponents.

All around me the others were hopelessly engaged, even Esgalnoron. And then the Orc saw his opening. He brought down his enormous blade, right at me. I shielded my face with my staff, praying that I would go quickly.

CLANG

Amathron's blade barely made it in time, but somehow he managed to deflect my opponent, sending him sprawling.

I opened my eyes.

I did not even have time to thank my teacher before he turned and engaged a different Orc. I quickly regained myself, whacking my stunned Orc hard on the head with all my might, and so killing him.

I quickly turned, grabbed my dead opponent's sword, and leapt back into battle.

There were only two left now. Esgalnoron shot one, and Cullastor finished him off while Amathron dispatched the last on his own.

"Is anyone wounded?" Amathron asked worriedly as we stood, exhausted, surveying the bodies strewn around us.

"Cullastor has a deep cut on his shoulder, Amathron." Heledhion indicated helpfully.

"It is nothing, I will be fine."

"That is what you always say, let me have a look." Amathron smiled at his stoic student.

"Anyone else?"

"I have a cut on my forehead."

That was Esgalnoron.

"Heledhion? Thurin?"

Heledhion indicated a shallow but long cut along his forearm, while I held up both my hands, covered in nicks, as well as my wrists. That is the drawback of staff-fighting.

Amathron nodded as he proceeded to bind up Cullastor and Esgalnoron, then Heledhion, before finally me.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For saving my life."

Amathron smiled.

"Any time." He ruffled my hair before hurrying off in search of the others, to see if they had been attacked as we had.

He returned a few minutes later with a troubled look on his face.

"I cannot find them. It worries me, everyone, we must search." He sighed grimly, gesturing in different directions.

We shouldered our packs, sheathed our weapons, and hurried off in groups: me and Esgalnoron, Cullastor and Heledhion, and just Amathron.

"Do not stray too far, come back immediately if you discover something."

Esgalnoron and I nodded in assent, before starting our search.

:::::::::::::::::

"I have never been in these woods before." Esgalnoron whispered uncertainly as we crept through the thick mass of trees.

"I can tell." I sighed dryly as I twisted my ankle in a rut.

"Well, it could be worse-"

"Esgalnoron," I interrupted sharply, my voice a strained hiss, "there is something wrong, someone is watching us."

"Why would anyone be watching us? Come on, just keep on walking like there is nothing the matter, maybe whatever it is will leave us alone..." He reassured, though I could tell that he was nervous as well.

"Do not move, or I run you through!" A cruel voice hissed, as two men cornered us.

The third, the speaker, emerged after them, a nervous look in his eyes.

Now, everyone does something different when surprised: some gasp, some scream, others freeze. Not me. Of course, the girl who wanted others to think her a boy had to squeak when surprised.

The man froze, unsure what had just happened.

Esgalnoron slapped a hand over my mouth, while my eyes widened, as I realized what I had just done.

"Do not try anything, Rangers." The sandy-haired man spat with contempt as he recovered from his momentary shock.

We both raised our hands in a peaceful gesture.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" Esgalnoron kept his face straight, keeping his demeanor natural, trying not to let them see his fear, while he pinched my airborne wrist, making sure I kept quiet.

"It is none of your business who we are, or what we want. You are coming with us."

I swallowed hard. Not many people liked Rangers, in fact, many despised us.

**"****What should we do?" **I whispered in Sindarin, my heart beating at a ridiculous pace.

**"****Act confident, above all, do not let them find out your gender, and do not reveal anything about the others." **

"Hey! Stop talking in that language! Speak common-speech!" The sandy-haired man growled threateningly, raising his own blade before motioning to his companions.

A bald man began removing all of Esgalnoron's weapons, and the second man, with shoulder-length tan hair unclasped my cloak and began picking me over.

I closed my eyes tightly as he felt every part of me with his hands, probing for weapons.

"Is that all you have on you?" The sandy-haired man, apparently the leader of the three, asked with suspicion. They had removed our swords, bows, quivers, and packs.

They had, however, neglected to remove our boots, leaving us with our knives. A small comfort.

"No. That is all." Esgalnoron sighed evenly, carefully shifting position in order to hide the knife-hilt visible through his boot.

The leader eyed us warily.

"How do I know I can trust you?" He growled menacingly, as his two men proceeded to tie our hands behind our backs.

"Are there any more of you?"

"No."

I was amazed at what a skilled liar Esgalnoron was, I never could have pulled that off.

"Come. Do not try anything, or else." He picked up my sword and waved it at us threateningly.

**"****Stay behind me, do not speak." **Esgalnoron hissed as we fell in behind him, flanked by his companions.

And we walked.

Every moment brought me more uneasiness, knowing that with every step we became farther from Amathron, from Rainor, from everyone. I casually touched my right boot with my left, just to assure myself that my knife was still there.

A small comfort, seeing as they were armed with long-swords.

"Where are you taking us?" Esgalnoron ventured softly after two hours.

"That is none of your business, you foul, double-crossing-"

"That is quite enough, thank you very much." I spat angrily, not being able to stand his insults.

**"****Calm your temper, Thurin!" **Esgalnoron warned, shielding me with his arm as the bald man struck out at me.

Esgalnoron gasped as the flat of the man's sword connected with his arm.

"Esgalnoron!" My voice shrill with alarm, I stooped and grabbed him as he fell, stunned by the pain.

"Have you not found your man voice yet, Ranger?" The leader guffawed loudly, grabbing me by my underarm and pulling me up, staring me in the face.

"No beard yet either, your face is as smooth as a woman's!"

That was it. I reared backward, kneeing him in the groin. Before anyone could act I grabbed a small log from the path, and knocked the bald man unconscious.

"Thurin, watch out behind you!" Esgalnoron choked, eyes widening.

I whirled around just as the man with the tan hair grabbed my shoulders from behind, dodging my wild swings.

"Tie them up. I cannot imagine how they slipped out of their bonds in the first place." The leader groaned, still doubled over on the ground.

The original knots had been pretty shoddy, but this time, as the man bound my hands he did his work well.

In a matter of minutes Esgalnoron and I were up against a tree, hands behind our backs as the man with the tan hair helped the leader up from the ground.

Said leader glared at me angrily for a moment, legs in a protective stance, before stooping to the bald man.

"He is out cold. Best leave him, come on. And you, yes you, the girly with the black hair, you better watch it."

::::::::::::::::

"Thurin, ah, oh Eru..." Esgalnoron groaned as I bound up his broken arm with the bottom of my tunic which I had torn off some minutes after I had re-set the bone.

"It sure is a good thing that Da taught me a little of his healing skill, don't move for pity's sake!"

Esgalnoron made weak protesting noises as I finished, before sinking back down against the tree.

The tan haired man was sitting some feet away, trying to stay awake so that he could guard us, as the leader slept.

But there was no need, for we were bound by our waists to the tree.

As the night grew darker, the snow came down harder.

Esgalnoron tried to stifle a cough.

I removed my cloak, which proved very awkward given that I was bound to a tree, and pulled it around him.

"This is all your fault, you know." I murmured as I shivered in the snow.

"Oh is it now, do tell."

"If you had acted faster-"

I never finished my sentence, Esgalnoron's soft laugh interrupted me.

"I'm sorry, Thu."

Tears welled up in my eyes. Tears of exhaustion, of fear, of pain.

"Esgalnoron, I'm sorry, it really is all my fault..."

I lay my head on his shoulder, drained after my long day.

He put his healthy arm around me, and we drifted off to sleep.

**What will happen next? Will Thurin and Esgalnoron escape? Alive? What happened to the rest of our Ranger company? Who are these strange, Ranger-hating men? Find all this out, and more, in the next installments!**

**Note on the Sindarin: I have it in bold, for I do not trust myself to write actual intelligible Sindarin. :/**

**Please review, I will not update until you do!**

**Question of the day: What song do you think would fit best with Thurin and Esgalnoron? What about Thurin and Thorongil?**

**~Thurin**


	7. Chapter 7

**Here I am, agains!**

**DISCLAIMER:Nothing's changed, don't own.**

**Huge thank you to all those who reviewed last chapter, it made me feel very good to know you guys care. :) Everyone else, please, please, PLEASE review. My inner writer lives off of reviews. Without them, she dies. Don't let her die, please review!**

"Thurin, wake up. Come on, we got to get moving soon."

Esgalnoron shook me, prodded me, even growled at me, but it was all in vain. There was no way I was getting up. I felt like I had jumped in front of the riders of the Rohirrim, getting trampled underfoot.

Esgalnoron was getting frustrated.

"_Thu_rin, come _on_."

I squeezed my eyes closed tighter.

"Ow! Esgalnoron! What was that for!" I squealed, jolting up immediately.

He smiled smugly.

I rubbed the section of my forearm which he had nipped regretfully.

"It always works."

I growled.

"Why did you feel the need to wake me up so early anyway? They are still asleep."

"Because I wanted us to be on our guard, up and alert. It will also give us time to think up how to escape."

"What if we never escape?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Thurin. Of course we will."

"How is your arm?"

I probed it lightly, and Esgalnoron winced.

"Not too bad."

I frowned.

"I wish Da were here..."

"It will be fine. Right now, we must think up a way to escape."

"What do you suggest?"

"We could draw our knives on them unawares, hey, maybe we could do that right now."

I suddenly realized how easy it would be to escape, until I tried to reach my boot and discovered that the binding around my waist restrained me. I sighed.

Esgalnoron sighed.

"What do you suggest, Thurin?"

"Well, perhaps we could hurl our bodies at them, knock them out, and so escape?"

"No, they will be holding weapons. And even if they don't chop us to pieces, we'll probably break a few bones. I do not need any more at the moment, thank you. Maybe when we are walking I could kick up my boot, you could catch it, throw me my knife-"

He coughed, before continuing: "-and then I could cut your bonds and you could get your knife-"

"Hold up. All that time we are grabbing knives and kicking boots, they can react. No, we need something better.

Aha! Oh, I got it! Since you're coughing like that, I could say that you have a deathly illness, and that you are dying, and that I must fetch a special weed that only I know to cure you."

"They won't buy it. And anyway, they hate me, why would they care?"

"I will say: Because if I cannot cure him soon, you will catch it too! And die!"

"And then?"

"Then, um, I'm not quite sure..."

"Come on, prisoners! Hurry up!"

The leader was awake. Luckily he had been sleeping far away enough not to catch our whispered words, but still, now we could not finish our master-plan.

"Untie them from that tree, hurry. We need to get moving."

I moaned inwardly and glared outwardly as we were cut from our bonds and led forward, hands still tied.

I walked forward slowly, ankles wailing in pain. I noticed Esgalnoron's arm was swelling, and everywhere the bandage did not cover was black-and-blue.

"Walk faster, you miserable excuses for men!" The tan-haired man growled, pushing me roughly forward.

I shot him the death glare(ala Thorongil)before obeying, picking up my pace.

::::::::::::::::::

As the sun began to go down and the shadows lengthened, I decided it was time to put our plan into action.

_Cough. _I mouthed to Esgalnoron. Unfortunately, I am really bad at mouthing.

He gave me a confused look.

_Cough!_

He cocked his head, but continued walking.

_COUGH!_

Now he looked worried about my health.

I put my elbow over my mouth and made a soft choking noise.

Finally he understood.

He coughed, loudly.

They took no notice.

The cough became a hacking one, and I gasped loudly.

"What's the matter you two? Keep moving!" The leader growled indignantly.

"You must untie me! My friend has a terrible illness and will die if I cannot find a certain herb!"

The men looked unimpressed.

"What is this illness called? We don't believe you."

I was trapped. I smiled awkwardly, I my mind raced.

I said the first thing that came into my head.

"Lothlorien."

The men looked impressed.

Esgalnoron winced visibly.

I shot him a 'and you think you could've done better?' look, before turning back to our captors.

"Very deadly. I must find the herb immediately."

"Why does this herb look like? We could find it, besides, why do we care about your friend?" The tan-haired man growled menacingly.

"Um, you see, I would tell you what it looks like, except I am not very good with your language, there are no words I now in it that can tell you."

Esgalnoron laid his head in his functioning hand in a gesture of defeat.

The men were too focused on me to notice.

"Let him die, we'll still have you."

"Ah, but if we don't heal him, you will catch it(it is very contagious), and die."

Esgalnoron coughed painfully for added effect.

The leader looked worried.

"All right, go and look for it, but Tarn will accompany you. Tarn?"

The tan-haired man, apparently called 'Tarn' grabbed my wrists, cut them free, and escorted me into the woods around us, one hand clenched tightly around my arm.

"Well? Find it."

I gulped.

"Um, it is a very rare herb, I must use my magical mysterious potentially dangerous Ranger senses to find it, so I would recommend taking a few steps back, and releasing your grip.

Tarn looked like he was about to disagree, but then Esgalnoron coughed loudly and long-sufferingly from the clearing he and the leader were waiting and he quickly took a step back, releasing me.

I placed my second and third finger against my nose and forehead, closing my eyes and trying to act magical. Tarn seemed convinced.

I hovered around, occasionally placing my ear to the ground, appearing to be listening intently for something.

Tarn began to look impatient.

"Aha! I have sensed its presence, you must close you eyes, or you shall be blinded by the light of the stars which shall be unleashed when I call it forth."

Tarn closed his eyes.

I whipped my knife from my boot, grabbed his arms, and placed the blade at his neck.

We were out of sight from the leader and Esgalnoron so I yelled: "I've found it! Everyone, quick! Come, help me pull it up!" The leader broke through trees, dragging Esgalnoron behind him.

He froze as he saw us.

"Don't move or I slit Tarn's throat." My voice dangerously low, I never broke eye-contact with the quaking man.

He didn't move.

"Release my companion. Now."

The leader turned around, and began fumbling with the knots of rope.

He was taking far too long.

Suddenly he whirled around, blade drawn, rushing towards me.

I rolled away, and he stuck his companion, Tarn, instead.

Tarn howled with rage, leaping up, drawing his own blade, and engaging in a duel-to-the-death with his leader.

I jumped up and sprinted away, dragging poor Esgalnoron behind me.

"Grab some weapons!" I cried as we ran through the clearing in which the leader had laid all of our things. I snatched up our packs in one arm, and a few weapons in the other.

"Run backwards! Don't stop!" Esgalnoron choked, trying his best to sprint(backwards) with his hands tied behind his back, and a broken arm to boot.

"WHAT?!"

"Just do it!"

We sprinted(backwards)for ten minutes straight, barely breathing, our hearts in our throats.

We stopped as we came to a tiny stream of water and sank down on the bank.

"You alright?" Esgalnoron gasped, cradling his arm forlornly.

"Yes. Gullible idiots, they're so scared of us they will believe anything."

Esgalnoron snorted.

"Where did Lothlorien come from? Rainor would murder you if he found out that was the best answer you could come up with."

My face reddened.

"Humph. I just remembered it from when Amathron was reviewing maps with us last week. How Heledhion asked what Lothlorien was, and the lecture on the forest that followed. The name struck me as interesting. I doubt you could've done better."

Esgalnoron shook his head.

"And where did running backwards come from? I nearly died about twenty times."

"Last time I was in Rohan, Uncle showed it to me. I thought it was a good escape tactic, so I remembered it."

"What does it even do?"

"Confuses your enemies. It makes them think you've gone the other way, instead of the path you've actually taken."

"Interesting. So, what now?"

"Start walking."

I moaned.

Esgalnoron managed to pick himself up, then extended his hand.

I took it, glaring all the while, as if this was all his fault.

He just smiled amiably, tugged my hair playfully, and started walking.

::::::::::::::::::

"So, how do we know we are headed in the right direction?"

"We don't. We hope that sometime we will find something: a village, a person, maybe even another Ranger."

"We're doomed."

"You're hopeless, Thurin."

"I know. Let's keep going, if you please."

And so began our journey.

:::::::::::::::::

"I'm telling you, I hear water!"

"It's only the wind!"

"There's a river nearby, come on!" I grabbed Esgalnoron's left wrist(the good one)and began dragging him towards the sound of running water.

He sighed, but made no objections.

"I told you! Look, finally, we may bathe."

"Yes, I suppose you were right."

We stripped off our Ranger's garb, leaving nothing beneath but our undergarments.

"Ah, this is nice." Esgalnoron sighed pleasantly as he washed his arm.

"Yes, I agree." I gurgled as I pushed a sopping blanket of long, raven hair from my face.

"We must dry ourselves and hurry on soon, there could be Orcs in these woods."

"Or there might not be. Anyway, they would get us whether we were in the water or out. The woods get dryer, this might be the last river we find for awhile."

::::::::::::::::::

"There is something wrong about this place, Thurin. Where are all the animals? The trees are so sparse..." Esgalnoron whispered anxiously as the morning sun broke out across the woods, more than a week later.

He was right, something about this part of the woods was all wrong.

"Look! Smoke! Maybe there is a fire, maybe a Ranger-camp!" I gulped excitedly, pointing out a small tower of smoke rising above the trees.

"Be careful, there's no telling what it could be."

"Come on!"

We picked our way cautiously through the sparse woods, searching for the home of the fire.

And we found it.

"A small town. Do you think they like Rangers?"

"Probably not, let us investigate."

"Stop! Proceed no further! Rangers? We don't need your sort in this town." The watchman growled, pointing his pole at us threateningly.

"We come in peace. We are tired and hungry, we only wish to stay a night or two."

The watchman looked as if he was about to protest, but then he noticed the swords hanging at our belts, the bows on our shoulders.

"All right, but don't try anything, and leave soon."

We nodded before flitting in, trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible.

Still, we received many suspicious glares as we hurried through the streets, trying to find a tavern or inn.

"Look! Over there, it says: The straggly Vulture, tavern and inn."

We crept in, slipped into seats in the corner, and ordered a breakfast.

"Hey! You're Rangers! You don't belong here!" A large, red-faced man yelled at us, waving his mug angrily.

I glanced at Esgalnoron nervously.

"Take no notice of him, be peaceful."

"You listening to me? I said you don't belong here, and I mean it!" The man rose from his seat, and walked over to us. He was enormous. A few other men rose as well, backing him.

"What do we have here? Is this one a female? Ooh, I didn't know they came in females." A particularly evil looking one smirked, taking my chin roughly between his fingers.

Esgalnoron's eyes turned to slits.

"What pretty hair you have, Ranger-maiden." He ran his other hand through my hair.

"A kiss, maybe? We'll get rid of the other one, but I could keep you." He grinned evilly, his already tight skin stretching to the breaking point.

Esgalnoron leapt up, his chair clattering to the ground behind him.

"Get your hands off her." He voice dripping anger, he stared hard at the man, willing him to let go.

The little creature just stood there, smiling, not removing his grip.

"I said, get your hands OFF HER!" Esgalnoron swung his left fist at the man, getting hime square across the face. As the man reeled to the side, the big fellow grabbed Esgalnoron, while two others grabbed me.

"You, Rangers, are under arrest. This was a very peaceful tavern before you came along."

With that, they dragged us off to their ridiculously small dungeons.

::::::::::::::::::

"I think that we have to work on my man-disguise."

"Yes, good idea. Luckily, we'll have quite a long time to think about it, seeing as we have no friends here."

There was a bitter silence.

"Esgalnoron, why did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Punch him."

"Your Da would have killed him, he was lucky it was only me. Besides, I couldn't stand him touching you. Now, try to rest a little. And if you can't, try to think of how to get us out of here."

"Alright. But it's day."

"I know. Try to rest anyway."

"This one really is all your fault."

Esgalnoron snickered, but it was ruined by a loud cough.

"Believe what you want, Thurin."

**What will happen next? Where is this town? Is Esgalnoron ill? Will they ever escape? I have a feeling they haven't seen the last of those Ranger-hating men, but we'll see!**

**Please Review, don't let me die!**

**~Thurin**


	8. Chapter 8

**Ugh. Guys, seriously? I got, like, one review. O.O I WILL NOT UPDATE this story unless I get some positive feedback! **

**:(.**

**Alright, *wipes tears*, on with the *sob* chapter.**

"If you would just move into the light-"

"There is no light!"

"Calm down, Thurin! Just move a little to the left-"

"Ack! Just finish!"

"I'm working as fast as I can!"

So began our night(no, that isn't a typo. I say night instead of day because we spent the day sleeping, see last chapter for details).

"That's it. You can finish the beard disguise yourself." Esgalnoron groaned, slumping down on the floor, cradling his head in his functioning hand.

I suddenly felt incredibly guilty.

"Esgalnoron, I'm sorry-"

"Too late. Finish it yourself."

I stumbled to the far wall and leant against it, burying my face into my hands, silent tears dripping down my cheeks.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" He spat after a moment of bitter silence.

I didn't move.

Esgalnoron sighed, running his hand through his disheveled hair.

"Thurin, you're not crying, are you?"

I froze, quickly wiped my eyes, before answering: "No. Not at all. I'm fine."

"I cannot STAND THIS CELL!" Esgalnoron erupted suddenly, grabbing our single wooden stool and throwing it aggressively at the low stone ceiling.

"You know what this cell is missing? It's missing a horse!" He grumbled, trying his best not to hyperventilate.

I snickered.

I couldn't help myself, the imagery his words brought to mind was terribly humorous.

Esgalnoron raised his eyebrows dangerously.

My snickering turned to downright laughter, my tears of sadness quickly turning to tears of mirth.

"Thurin, what in Arda are you laughing at? This is no time for laughing."

"Sorry, but, honestly, a horse? You're only half Rohirrim, you know."

"I know very well. All my relatives from the mark are constantly complaining that I'm _only_ half Rohirrim, and my Rangery friends think that it's one half too much."

"I'm sorry. But still, imagine if there was a horse..."

Esgalnoron smiled grimly.

I suppressed a giggle.

"How are we going to escape?" He asked sadly, after a turbulent silence.

"We could kill the man who brings us food, and escape."

"Not going to work. Aha! We could escape through the window!"

"You might be able to fit through that window, but not I."

It was true, Esgalnoron and I had very different body shapes. He was tall and skinny, and I was short and rounded.

"Alright then, let's think about your plan some more. We only have one guard, how would both of us escape?"

"What do you mean? Wouldn't it be easier with one?"

"Oh, you were talking about just killing and running. Interesting, I was thinking about the old dress as the guard and sneak away idea."

"Alright, yes, we only have one guard...I know! We could both squeeze into his clothes!"

Esgalnoron's eyes widened.

"How would that ever work? What would your Da say?"

"Lighten up. It's a brotherly act of trust, you know."

"How would it be a brotherly act of trust?"

"Only one of us could have our heads out, so the other would be trusting him or her."

"Interesting... But still, I don't see how that could work."

"Hmm, maybe you could escape out the window, and I could escape by killing the guard?"

"It's worth a try. He'll probably be here soon, help me out."

I positioned myself on my hands and knees, and he put a foot gingerly on my back.

"Ready?"

"Yep." I grunted, slowly hoisting him up.

"Almost...got it!"

He had his hands on the sill.

I stood up, his feet on my shoulders.

"See you in the forest!"

"Same!"

And then he was gone.

I heard some scratching noises, those of his easing down the outside wall(which must of been very hard, considering his broken arm), and then a small thump as he hit the ground, and finally a scuttling noise as he hurried off.

I suddenly felt very lonely, and cold.

I spent the first few moments crying softly before I leapt into action.

I stripped off all my clothes other than my undergarments and tied them around my waist and breast to even things out, hoping that I would be able to fit into the large guard's uniform.

Soon I heard a clanking of keys and I raised the battered stool, ready to strike.

"Heres your break-"

_THUNK_

He was out cold.

I hurriedly ripped off his tunic, electing to leave the breeches.

The tunic went long enough on me that I didn't need them anyway.

I pulled the cap over my hair and face, donned the tunic, and slunk off.

"Hey!"

I froze.

"How's your family doing? Your brother gotten any sense knocked into him yet?"

Good, he was fooled.

I coughed loudly.

"Um, well, you see, I...have to use the privy, just give me a moment."

The other man nodded understandingly as I hurried off, praying hopefully that he didn't notice my long raven hair or lack of breeches.

Luckily, it was too dark in the little cold jail to notice anything, and I rushed into the woods, avoiding anyone I saw.

It was then that I noticed what a terrible plan ours was.

"Esgalnoron, Esgalnoron!" I hissed, hurriedly changing back into my preferred Ranger-garb.

No answer.

I searched the whole perimeter around the village, hoping for any sign of him.

Nothing.

I began to get worried.

I searched all day, my heart in my throat.

"It's no use." I sighed, kicking a mound of snow aside with my boot before collapsing with exhaustion and frustration.

::::::::::::::::

I awoke shivering, several hours later. It was no use trying to sleep in this cold, no matter how tired I was.

I rose slowly, flexing all my muscles in an attempt to get the stiffness of sleeping on the cold, hard ground out of them.

Then I started walking. There was definitely a trail of some sort: trampled grass, dubious imprints in the snow. But I had never been one for tracking, unlike my father. These tracks could be from a large tribe of rabbits for all I knew.

The farther I followed the tracks the more there seemed to be, as if more beings were joining the group.

As the sun began to dip lower in the sky, I thought I smelt something vague in the distance.

Smoke. A campfire, maybe.

I picked up my pace, tripping over logs, stones, and even my own feet.

As the sun began to rise I broke through a line of trees and froze, horrified.

A large campfire burned brightly, sending smoke all across the forest. Surrounding it was a small band of orcs, and in the middle was Esgalnoron, bound and gagged.

He was shaking his head frantically, trying desperately to tell me something.

I cocked my head sideways, wondering what he could mean. I was safely hidden behind a screen of bushes, no one but him could see me.

I was wrong.

I body landed on mine, knocking the air out of me.

I keeled forward, and my face connected with a rock.

Everything went black.

:::::::::::::::

"Mph! Mnph, Mph!"

My eyes flickered open.

Esgalnoron was laying right beside me, struggling against his bonds.

I realized I was bound as well, in fact, they had tied us to each other.

A look of relief passed over his face as he realized I was awake.

He gestured at a group of orcs with his head, and I noticed someone I recognized in the midst of them.

The leader of the Ranger-hating men.

He was covered in deep cuts, most likely from the knife-fight we had left him in.

I bent backwards, trying to bring my hands up to Esgalnoron's gag. Seeing what I was attempting he leant forward, and I was finally able to grasp the cloth. With difficulty I managed to loosen it, enough so he could speak. Then we leant the other way and he did the same for me.

"Are you alright?" He whispered once this small feat was accomplished.

"My head hurts terribly, I think I slammed it on the ground when he jumped on me, but other than that, I think I am alright."

"Good. There is blood though, all over your face. It turns out the Ranger-hating men were working for these orcs, to capture Rangers. Apparently there have been quite a few other Rangers passing through lately."

"How do you know all this?"

He looked offended.

"I have ears, you know."

I nodded, blinking the blood out of my eyes.

"We set off tomorrow, I've seen signs of another Ranger a little ways away." A nasty, huge Orc sneered, pulling us from our whispered conversation.

"Yes, but what about me? You promised you would pay!" The leader of the Ranger-hating men growled with frustration, waving his arms wildly.

"You have served us enough. You took far too long to bring these two to us. Leave, before we kill you."

The man looked scared, but he wouldn't give up.

"You promised! I'll just take them to someone who will pay if you don't-"

He froze, before keeling over, a knife in his back.

"When do we kill them, boss?" A small, feisty little ord whined impatiently, gazing over at our persons hungrily.

"Sauron says kill all the Rangers you find, why haven't we killed them yet?" Another one added, drawing his knife.

"Because," The large, dangerous looking orc spat, grabbing the little one by the shoulder, "we can use them as bait for other Rangers. Then we kill them."

I shuddered.

"Come! Let's find more!" He called, summoning the entire band. There were seven of them, in all.

The largest, and strongest, lumbered over to us. He grabbed and slung us over his shoulder, and proceeded to join the others.

There is nothing worse than being slung over the shoulder and carried like a dead deer by a gigantic, disgusting orc all day long.

Two hours into it I felt like I had died.

:::::::::::

"Look! His tracks, he is around here somewhere." The head scout growled, pointing out uncharacteristically obvious Ranger footprints.

I was slipping between consciousness and not.

Esgalnoron was looking very worried.

"We're almost there, I can smell him." The small, hungry-looking one sighed happily as we neared a clearing.

"Now, Rangers, call for help, lure him here, or you die." Our carrier instructed in a gruff, meaty voice.

Esgalnoron perked up, as if he was hearing something. I was too far gone to care.

"Well?"

Suddenly a blur of green cloak and brown hair burst through the trees, slamming into the small orc, before drawing a long knife and making short work of several others.

The leader orc engaged him in combat, but was defeated.

Finally he leapt over towards us, wrestling the last orc to the ground.

He rose, wiping the orc blood from his arms.

Esgalnoron was so happy he nearly burst into tears.

"Well, what Ranger-troupe are you from? Who's your captain?" He asked gruffly, stabbing the still-twitching body of a nearly-dead orc.

"Thorongil! It's us!" Esgalnoron cried, struggling against his bonds.

Thorongil looked surprised, hurrying over and actually looking at us closely for the first time.

"Esgalnoron! Thurin! Wait, does Thurin have...a beard?!" His voice rose and octave with surprise as he hurriedly began cutting our ropes.

"Remnants of man-disguise." Esgalnoron explained as shook me roughly, rousing me from my half-conscious state.

"Hmm?" I mumbled, burying my face in his shoulder and rolling over.

"Thurin! Wake up! Sorry, Thorongil, she's been sort of woozy ever since she got knocked out-"

"She got knocked out! Where have you two been? Esgalnoron! What happened to your arm? Thurin, what happened to your face!"

Esgalnoron smiled nervously.

"Long story. My arm is fine-"

"No it isn't, you broke it." I mumbled, managing to drag my eyes open.

Thorongil was having problems deciding who he should cure first.

"Here, Esgalnoron, I'll unwrap your arm and take a look...who did this bandaging? This is terrible work..."

"Thurin did." Esgalnoron smiled weakly, trying to zone out as he became aware of the bloodied bodies of orcs all around him.

Thorongil glared at me accusingly before proceeding to fully unwrap and inspect Esgalnoron's arm.

He grimaced.

"Exactly how long has this been broken?"

"A couple of weeks."

"You are one brave man, Esgalnoron, I'll give you that." My father sighed as he searched a pouch at his side for some herbs before re-wrapping and splinting the arm.

"Here, this should help with pain." He handed Esgalnoron a small herb to eat, before turning balefully upon me.

"And what, exactly, happened to you, young lady?"

"A Ranger-hating man jumped out of a tree and landed on top of me,"

"And?"

"I hit my head on a rock."

"Interesting. Anything else?"

"Esgalnoron has a cough."

"Thurin! Why did you have to tell him that!"

Thorongil quickly bestowed the death-glare upon Esgalnoron, immediately silencing him.

"Esgalnoron, can you walk?"

"I can't see why not."

"Come on then." So saying, Thorongil hoisted me up in his arms, wiping off some of the blood decorating my forehead off with his sleeve, and bringing us to his hidden camp-site.

::::::::::::::

"Thurin, daughter, wake up!" Thorongil whispered, shaking my shoulders.

"What? How did you get here? Oh, I remember, it wasn't a dream after all."

"No, it wasn't. How are you feeling?"

"Fine. I have a headache, but nothing too bad. How is Esgalnoron?"

"I'm fine!" He called from the other side of the fire, smiling brightly.

"Good, now that's settled, we must decide what we are going to do. Thurin, I need to leave, I still have much I must do."

I frowned.

"But why? Why are you always gone, why can't I come with you?"

"That is what I wanted to discuss. Thurin, I have been thinking, that, perhaps, well..."

"Yes?"

"I have been thinking about how things will change, and I...was wondering if you could accompany me, when you and Esgalnoron are well."

My eyes widened.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. It would be dangerous, very, very dangerous. But you may only come if Esgalnoron agrees."

I sat bolt upright. I hadn't realized that this would mean leaving Esgalnoron behind.

My companion swallowed nervously, I saw the indecision in his features.

I had always known that Esgalnoron was my best friend, that we would always be there for each other. But I had never realized just how good a friend he was until that moment, when he was faced with that choice.

"Yes. I am alright with that. I will travel to 'Hobbiton' with the other Rangers, and wait."

His voice was even but his eyes betrayed him. He looked like his hands were being chopped off.

He knew how much this meant to me, and at that moment, I realized just how good of a friend I was blessed with. Someone who would wait for me, possibly for many years, just so I could be with my father.

"It is settled. Rest up, you two. I say we part ways in two days, maybe."

:::::::::::::::::

"Goodbye Esgalnoron."

I turned, and began to walk away, following my father.

"Thurin, wait!"

I turned back.

"Here, I want to give you these."

He hurriedly pulled a string from around his neck. Strung on it were three shiny, brilliant beads.

"These are mithril, and they look to be made by the dwarves themselves! How did you get these?"

"My father's father's father saved the life of a dwarf, becoming severely injured in the process. The dwarf gave him these in thanks. They are a family heirloom, either to be worn by the eldest son, or given to his, ehrm, closest friend. I never wear them, so, I thought you could.

Remember me, I will be waiting." He deftly braided and strung them into my long hair.

"Farewell, Esgalnoron." I felt as if my heart was being torn out of me. I smiled faintly at him before hurrying to catch up with my long-legged father.

What Esgalnoron told me about the beads wasn't exactly true; they were to be given to the eldest son who could either wear them himself or give them to his lover, but Esgalnoron hadn't felt that last part necessary as long as Thorongil was in hearing distance.

**What will happen next? What will happen to Esgalnoron? Where are Thorongil and Thurin going? Who is Thorongil, really? What happened to the rest of the Rangers? Will Esgalnoron and Thurin ever see each other again? If so, will they ever be more than good friends? **

**Please review, I'm serious, I will just finish this story and not post it if I get so few reviews again. :( **

**PLEASE REVIEW,**

***sob*,**

**~Thurin**


	9. Chapter 9

**I'm back! Your welcome! HANNON LE, PEOPLES WHO REVIEWED. Your reviews were so thoughtful, and supportive, they make me so HAPPY! *does happy dance***

Many years had passed. I was thirty now, and had been traveling with Thorongil for many years. Most of these had been spent tracking a strange creature, called 'Gollum'. The _thing_ creeped me out, but somehow Da and I had both managed.

We had traveled all over Middle-earth, we had seen many things, some of which I wish I could remember forever, and some I wish I could forget. We had gone all the way to the dead marshes, losing him, and then finding him again. Finally we had captured him, sent him to Thranduil, ElvenKing, and all had looked well. But then the creature had escaped, and despite our best efforts, we couldn't recapture him.

To make things worse, I had only gotten glimpses of Esgalnoron. Every once and awhile we would chance upon him, we would exchange smiles. Once, we had met in Rohan and feasted together, had a wonderful evening, but then we had journeyed on.

I never drew the beads from my hair, except to re-braid them every once and awhile. Da had perfect my man disguise, a soot-covered chin, an extra-large hood. They called him 'Strider', and somehow I had become 'Fey'.

Our journeys had been punctuated by endless danger, pain, and discomfort. But I loved it, and so did Da.

But now he looked even more concerned than usual, as he hurried through the woods, me struggling to keep up.

"Why don't you tell me anything?" I cried angrily, tripping on and tearing my breeches at the ankle, tumbling down, and popping back up.

"Whatever I don't tell you's for your own good!" He growled, ducking under a large branch, which I face-planted in.

"Why are we running?"

"We are always running."

"Why are we running right now?"

"Because we have urgent business in the town of Bree."

"Have we been there before?"

"Last year, and a few years before that."

"Ah, yes, I remember. I hate it there."

"Come on, Thurin, we need to move faster."

"It's times like this when we need a horse."

"Please stop indirectly referencing Esgalnoron, Thurin. I now it makes you feel better, but, it's staring to make me feel guilty."

"About what?"

"About separating you two, I never realized how close you were, until now."

"Don't feel guilty, none of this is your fault. I want to be with you."

Thorongil sighed forlornly.

"So many things are my fault, Thurin. Come on, we must get there in two days time."

"Is this near Hobbiton?"

"Relatively near, but no, Thurin, we won't go looking for Esgalnoron, I'm sorry, but this is incredibly urgent."

I sighed.

"Alright, let's hurry then."

We picked up our pace, pounding through the thick forest.

Suddenly, we began to hear sounds behind us.

"We're being followed, draw your weapon." Thorongil mumbled under his breath, beginning to sprint now.

My heartbeat quickened as I rushed after him, drawing a sword from my belt.

I could run very fast on occasion if I gave it my all, but not for long.

Arrows began to zip over our heads as our opponents neared, yelling curses at our persons.

"There's nothing for it, I say we turn and fight." Thorongil growled as he whirled around, lowering a knife. He had a sword, I saw it in his scabbard, but he never used it. It was strange.

I drew two long daggers, leaping into combat beside him.

My father was such a brilliant fighter, he taught me everything I know.

I myself am not very good, but I can hold my own pretty well. But him, he is amazing.

He and I both fought better when we yelled, I think I must have learned that from him. Anyway, needless to say, it was a pretty loud fight. There were five orcs, all set on killing us in cold blood. We swung our blades, dodging our opponents swords and arrows.

Everything was looking splendid for us, and then the tables turned.

I felt a sickening pain in my waist, and I stumbled, falling backwards onto the ground.

Seeing me, Thorongil turned into a dangerous killing machine. Within seconds, he had dispatched every single one.

"Thurin!" He cried fearfully, hurrying over and kneeling by my side.

"'m, fine..." I groaned, trying to tug the arrow loose.

"No you're not!" Thorongil held me down, carefully twisting loose the dark, bloody shaft.

"Ow! Ow ow ow ow OW!" I sobbed, grabbing at his tunic, twisting it tightly in my fingers, willing the terrible pain to leave.

"Thurin! Stop moving!"

"It burns!"

"Just stop writhing! I need to fix it!"

I bit my lip hard, clenching my fingers on his clothes, barely moving, tears streaming down my cheeks.

Finally he was able to pull the arrow from me.

I gasped in pain, falling against him.

"Sh, Thurin, darling, it's alright. I'll bandage it up now. Just lay back."

I had taken arrows before, but never one so painful. I whimpered, but obeyed.

My father's brows furrowed as wrenched his tunic from my grasp, and began to mop up the blood with it.

Pain raced through my body, but somehow I managed to still my limbs.

"It is done." Da sighed as he ripped off the sleeve of my tunic, using it to bandage the wound.

My breath came in gasps as my tense shoulders slumped, my craned neck loosened and my head fell forward onto his shoulder.

"It wasn't terribly deep, Thurin. I put some herbs on it while I bandaged it, you'll be fine. I've seen much worse."

"You always see much worse, Da, I know that."

"Can we keep walking? This is incredibly urgent."

I glared up at him accusingly.

"Do you honestly expect me to get up and walk for the next two days? Could YOU?!"

"Thurin, calm down."

"I WON'T CALM DOWN! I WANT TO RECOVER FOR A FEW MOMENTS IF YOU DON'T MIND!"

"Thurin, you will alert every creature in miles of our presence. Calm. Down."

He sighed.

"It's times like these when I wish I had Esgalnoron, you always listen to him."

"I'm sorry."

"No, I am. It was very insensitive of me. Rest, we will make up for lost time tonight."

I lay back against the tree. A burning pain raced all across my body, particularly around the wound.

I grabbed at the sparse grass beside me, squeezing my eyes tightly together in an attempt to douse the pain.

"_Once there was a flower blue, a'blooming in the vale-_"

"Singing eases the pain?"

"More than anything else."

My father nodded, squeezing my hand gently.

_"__The wind it blew around it sharp like kite with silver tail... _Hmm, I haven't sang that in so long, I cannot remember the words._"_

Thorongil smiled wryly.

"I can give you an herb to help you sleep, when you awake we may continue walking."

"Alright."

Within moments of consuming the bitter herb I had drifted off to sleep.

:::::::::::

The moment my eyes cracked open I was aware of a dull, ongoing pain right above my right hip.

"Thurin! You're awake, finally! I was afraid I had given you too much and you might have slept all day." Thorongil smiled cheerily as he extended a hand to help me up.

I took it and rose, gasping at the unexpected jolt of pain.

"Here, let me inspect it." Thorongil carefully lifted up my tunic and pulled my breeches down a few inches, examining.

"Alright, all clear. It's stopped bleeding and is closing up. Come on!"

We set our pace slow at first, but I could see the anxious urgency in my father's face.

So I forced myself forward, wincing at every step.

:::::::::::

"When are we going to get there?"

"By this evening, if we hold this pace."

I set my teeth. We had stopped for a hasty lunch just a few hours before, so then maybe only a few more to go. The wound was feeling surprisingly better. It had been about a day and a half since I had received it, and it had turned out to be rather mild, barely deep at all. But still, walking was even more painful than usual.

"What are we going there for?"

"Two Halflings."

"What in Arda are Halflings?"

"I don't honestly know. I've never met one before myself, but Gandalf told my they were very small, and round. Come, we must hurry."

Ah, Gandalf. Another favor for him. Most of our missions had been for him, yet I had only been able to get glimpses of the peculiar old man.

"Hurry, we need to arrive before they do, or there could be trouble."

::::::::::::

Late that night we slunk into Bree, flitting between the shadows.

"The Prancing Pony, hurry, we mightn't have much more time." Thorongil whispered, ushering me quietly inside.

Staying toward the back wall, we made our way over to the most removed, dark corner.

The innkeeper cast us a nervous glance before waddling over, preparing to take our orders.

"Strider, isn't it? And Grey? No, no, it's Fey. Anyway, what would you two be wanting?"

"A mug of ale for me, water for my companion. Also, a bit of food would be nice. A pipe, perhaps?"

Butterbur nodded hurriedly before rushing off.

"Look, there they are." Thorongil whispered, gesturing cautiously at four incredibly short men, sitting down at a table on the other side of the room.

::

"Those men, they've been watching you like hawks this whole time, Mister Frodo."

Frodo took a careful glance at them. One, a very tall man, sat behind a small table, smoking a pipe, his face covered. Another, smaller man sat behind him, bathed in shadow. It was impossible to make out any of his features, save for something very shiny that glinted brightly when the candlelight shone on it.

"Just ignore them, Sam. Don't worry."

::

Nothing had been happening. The halflings were eating, drinking, talking quietly amongst themselves.

And then everything happened at once.

The small one appeared to be slightly drunk, and was yelling things and pointing at the other halflings.

The dark-haired one became all agitated, rushing over, grabbing his friend, and somehow falling.

I felt my father tense as he hit the ground.

And then suddenly the halfling just disappeared.

My eyes widened, unable to believe what I had just seen.

In the blink of an eye Thorongil rose, grabbing something and hurrying off.

It was the dark-haired halfling.

I tried to rise and follow him, but I was waylaid.

"Hey! You! What's your friend doin' to mister Frodo!" A heavily built, sandy-haired halfling grabbed the edge of my tunic, bristling with fury.

I shook myself from his grip, before hurrying after my father.

The halflings caught up, and within moments the four of us burst into a dark hallway.

Thorongil was rebuking the halfling in his low, dangerous tone, when he froze, glaring at us in surprise.

I quickly scuttled to him side, away from the aggressive halfling's stool.

::

Sam surveyed the two men carefully.

They certainly looked very suspicious: The tall one's tunic was blotted with blood, a threatening sword at his side, dark, brown hair touching his shoulders. The short one had an odd limp, the sleeve off his tunic looked as if it had been ripped off in a hurry. His waist was bandaged, and bloody. Long, Raven hair fell below his waist, ornamented with strange silvery beads. These men were not to be trusted, not at all.

::

"Who are you, what do you want." Sam questioned angrily, glaring up at my father.

"I am Strider, this is Fey. We want to protect you."

The halflings shared dubious glances.

:::::::::::::::

A piercing shriek echoed through the town, sending us all into shivers.

We were squeezed into a small, dark hallway of a room.

It appeared the Black Riders had just discovered our decoys.

The halflings, or Hobbits, as they call themselves, were snuggled together against the opposite wall, eyes wide with fear.

Across from them sat Thorongil, and me.

I pressed my trembling hands against my thighs, in an attempt to calm them. That sound was the most horrifying thing I had ever heard, chilling me to the marrow.

Thorongil appeared composed, but I could tell from the little shiver his muscles gave at the sound how frightened even he was.

I leant my head on his shoulder, feeling even more drained than usual.

"Da?"

"Hmm?"

"My head's pounding."

"Try to sleep, you'll most likely feel better by morning."

All this was whispered so imperceptibly, the Hobbits couldn't even catch it, but they looked at us curiously, irritated at our whispering.

"Try to get some sleep, master Hobbits, we will have lots of walking, come tomorrow."

The Hobbits sighed, but soon were able to get to sleep.

:::::::

"Pip, you awake."

"Now I am, what is it, Merry?"

"Look at those queer men, why do you think they are sleeping like that?"

Merry gestured to my father and I. He was in a sitting position, head lolling down, one arm around me, limbs relaxed, enjoying pleasant dreams.

I was curled up by his side, face buried in his shoulder, mumbling something about Ranger-hating men in my sleep.

Pippin cocked his head.

"What relation do you think they are to each other, Pip?"

"They must be cousins, like us."

"They might be, what about brothers?"

"Or Fey could be Strider's nephew."

"Or son."

"Or they could just be good friends."

"Or maybe not, that may be how all men sleep, men are very queer."

"I still think they must be cousins."

"Let's ask them, tomorrow."

"Good idea, goodnight Merry."

"Goodnight Pip."

**What is wrong with Thurin? Will Esgalnoron ever come back into the story? What about Boromir and Faramir, where did they go? Why won't Thorongil tell Thurin anything? What about Arwen, what will our dear Thu think of her? **

**NOTE: I am using the book timeline, but most of the action scenes from the movie. I am not quoting the movie or the book word for word. :P**

**PLEASE REVIEW.**

**Every time I get a new review, a big happy smile spreads across my face because I know people appreciate my writing and are enjoying my story. There is no reason for me to continue posting if I don't get positive feedback. D:**

**~Thurin**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hallo! Me be back! Thx to reviewers!**

The next morning dawned.

We ate a meager, but adequate breakfast. And then we prepared to set off.

Da began scaling a small hill, and I followed him, expecting the Hobbits to come right behind.

"Wait! We can't go yet!"

Thorongil looked confused.

"Why not?"

"We haven't had breakfast!"

"Yes we have!"

"One, yes, but what about second breakfast?"

My father stared at them quizzically.

"I don't think they know about second breakfast, Pip."

"What about Elevensies? Luncheon? Afternoon tea? Dinner? Supper? They know about them, don't they?"

Oh no. The had to be joking.

"You're not serious, are you?" I gawked, for a moment forgetting to maintain my man-disguise. The Hobbits didn't seem to notice.

"Of course we are! Don't you eat seven meals a day?"

"No, three, when I can get them."

Pippin gasped.

All the Hobbits cast me pitying glances.

"Come on, Fey."

I obediently followed Thorongil, still in a mild state of shock.

"They aren't following." I whispered after we had disappeared behind a large bush, waiting.

Thorongil sighed, before tossing them some apples over his shoulder.

"Come one, you Hobbits. We have a long way to go yet."

::::::::

Thorongil and I were walking slightly ahead. I was just getting lost in my own thoughts when the Hobbit's whispered voices floated through the air to my ears.

"How do we know they aren't servants of the enemy?"

"Somehow, I think a servant of the enemy would seem fairer, but feel fouler, not them, I suppose they are the opposite."

I snickered.

"Dear father, it appears that your dignity has just been gravely insulted."

"As has yours."

"See, Sam? They seem friendly enough."

"I suppose, Mister Frodo."

::::::::::

I felt like I would die.

Imagine: Wading through a waist-high marsh(Exactly high enough to reach and sting my wound).

Now, imagine that it is hot, muggy, smelly, and exhausting.

Now, add to that a headache, all the discomfort associated with a fever, and general ankle-pain.

You get the idea.

That was how I felt as we waded slowly, painstakingly, through midge-water marshes.

"This is ridiculous! Where did all these midges come from!" The small one(who I believed was called Pippin)wailed in agony, swatting at the small black bugs swarming around his head.

Humph. And he thought he had problems.

"Keep. Moving." My father growled, somehow managing to hold a steady pace. Maybe that was because he was so tall. Us short people were having considerable problems in this waist-high muck.

"How much longer until we are through?" That was the dark-haired one.

"Keep. Moving."

"Do you Rangers ever just act like normal people? Here we have Strider, snapping things like 'Keep. Moving.' over and over, and here we have his sociable friend, Fey, not even talking at all. How do you guys have any fun?" Pippin(he must be, I was sure that was his name)sighed, casting his friends annoyed glances.

"Just please be quiet, all of you." I groaned, ready to strangle their puny necks.

"Fey, please, control yourself."

The Hobbits cast me nervous glances before hurrying on, eager to be free of the marsh.

::

I stumbled, falling on my hands and knees.

"Here."

I glanced up, surprised.

The dark-haired one, Frodo, stood above me, extending a hand, a bright smile on his face.

"Um, thanks." I spluttered, taking it, and so rising.

And now the rest of me was covered in swamp as well.

"Here looks like a good place to rest for the night. Dryer, higher, good coverage of trees. What do you think, Fey?"

"Look's fine to me." I groaned, my vision blurring before my eyes.

Thorongil shot me a concerned glance before beginning to build a campfire.

"Fey?" Pippin ambled over, followed by a curious Merry.

"Hmm?"

"Are you sure you're not a Hobbit? I've never seen a man so short."

I snickered.

Merry came up and measured against me. His head reached my breast. Wow, I never realized how short I actually was.

"No, I'm not a Hobbit, I'm five feet. Do Hobbits ever reach that height?"

"No, but still, Strider is a good head taller than you, it is strange."

"Men vary in height, just like Hobbits. Now, please leave me alone." I sighed, sliding to the ground, cradling my pained head in my aching hands.

"We must hunt for something to eat, coming Fey?"

"Sure."

I rose slowly, attempting to steady my wobbling legs beneath me.

"Stay here. Lay low. Don't move." Strider growled at the Hobbits before fitting an arrow to his bow, hurrying out into the woods, me stumbling behind.

The Hobbits all froze, wobbling back and forth, trying their best not to move a muscle.

"I hope they aren't gone long, I'm having problems keeping my balance." Merry sighed, one foot in the air; he had been in the middle of taking a step when Strider had issued his command.

::

"They are coming! I can hear them! Maybe we can move now!" Pippin cried in joy, rolling his tight shoulders.

The light mood was extinguished as Strider burst through the bushes.

Fey was in his arms, apparently unconscious.

"Fey! What is wrong!" Pippin cried in alarm, rising from his sitting position, eyes wide.

"Nothing is wrong," Strider growled gruffly, "Sam, cook something."

Sam knelt by the fire obediently, fiddling distractedly with his pans.

Strider lay Fey against a tree, feeling for his pulse.

Pippin and Merry glanced worriedly at each other, unsure what they should do.

"Da?"

"Sh, honey, it'll be alright. How do you feel?"

"Bad. Really bad." Fey groaned, cracking his eyes open.

"The arrow must have been poisoned, a much slower poison. Stay still."

Strider rose.

"Hobbits!"

Pippin jumped guiltily.

"Stay here! Fey is fine, just stay here." So saying, he ducked out of the clearing, leaving a tense silence behind.

"Should we do something?" Pippin squeaked, glancing uneasily at the groaning Ranger several feat away.

"No, it looks like Mister Strider's got it all under control. Besides, we might make it worse, Strider didn't want us to do anything. Come, help me cook Supper." Sam stated reasonably, handing Merry a sauce-pan, and Pippin a handful of vegetables.

"Help! Esgalnoron!"

The Hobbits' heads' snapped over towards the short Ranger in alarm.

"Who's Esgalnoron?" Merry whispered with fright, grabbing Pippin's wrist in alarm at the sudden sound.

Frodo approached Fey cautiously, not sure what to do.

"Um, Esgalnoron's right here, it's fine." He shot Sam an awkward glance. His gardener just shrugged.

Fey's features calmed somewhat.

Frodo smiled. Maybe he was helping a little.

"Here comes Mister Strider!" Sam sighed with relief, suddenly realizing that he had let the vegetables burn.

In one stride, the tall Ranger was crouching over Fey.

"What is he doing?" Pippin whispered, stealing some of Sam's precious ingredients.

"Whatever it is, I think Fey will be alright. Come, let's see if we can salvage any of Sam's poor vegetables." Frodo chuckled, poking an unidentifiable burnt something with suspicion.

:::::::::

By looks of the moon, it was nearing midnight.

Thorongil sat by the dying fire, keeping watch while the Hobbits slept.

The night was dark, lonely even. He was relatively alone, so he began to sing. Quietly, he sang the lay of Beren and Luthien.

Carefully, he parted the dark locks of sweaty hair stuck to Thurin's forehead.

She was asleep, curled up on the forest floor, head resting in his lap.

Her sticky hair curled around her, Esgalnoron's beads glinting in the moonlight.

Thorongil ran a hand through her tangled hair, fingering the beads gently, launching into his favorite verse.

"Strider?"

He jumped, surprised, feeling rather violated, having his private moment observed.

"I, I was just wondering what you were singing?" Frodo asked timidly, kicking the snoring Sam lightly, succeeding in making him stop the noise.

"The lay of Beren and Luthien, go to sleep."

Silence.

"Strider?"

Thorongil sighed in frustration. Was he never to have any peace?

"Is Fey alright? Is he very ill?"

Thorongil's heart softened immediately.

"Yes. Fey will be fine. I have given him some herbs with good poison-fighting properties. The poison was not bad, nor the wound deep. Yes, I think he will be well enough come tomorrow."

Frodo nodded solemnly, not understanding half of it.

"Strider? One more thing,"

"Yes?"

"who is Esgalnoron?"

Thorongil tensed.

"How do you know that name?"

"Fey was crying out for him, I...just wondered..."

"A dear friend, now, go to sleep."

Frodo nodded again before lying down, pinching Sam's nose in attempt to stop the ever-persistent snoring, and drifting off to sleep.

**Your'e welcome for the update! :) Please review, you don't know how much it means to me. :DDDD**

**What will happen next? Will they make it to Rivendell? What about Weathertop? Will Thurin be alright? What about our lovely Hobbity friends? Will they find out her true identity? It's only a matter of time now...**

**Excitedly await the next update!**

**I say again, review if you value your life. Those who do not review will get a very stern talking to by Thorongil, a death-glare from Thurin, and an arrow-to-the-neck from Esgalnoron. So yeah, please review.**

**:),**

**~Thurin**


	11. Chapter 11

**And I'm back! I am SO SO sorry for the long wait, but I was SWAMPED up to my neck in work. So much work you wouldn't BELIEVE it. Seriously, I honestly considered many times just kicking off my shoes, and running away from all of it, singing the best of Birdy at the top of my lungs. **

**:(**

**Thanks Reviewers! **

**Just to make this clear, no matter how much it looks like it, this story is NOT a tenth-walker. :)**

"Weathertop. Come, I want to arrive there by night." Strider gestured to a large hill topped with ruins.

I shivered: it looked ominous.

Pippin jogged a few steps, catching up to me.

"Fey? You ever been to Weatherwhatsit?"

"Weather_top, _and no, I have not."

Pippin nodded.

"Fey?"

"Hmm?"

"Why do you have soot on your chin?"

"It isn't soot, it's a beard. Don't you Hobbits know anything?"

"Oh, sorry, it looks an awful lot like soot. Do you know when we can stop for food?"

"We just did only an hour ago!"

"I know! I'm starved!"

I sighed, little Pippin never ceased to surprise me.

"Fey?"

"Do Hobbits ever stop talking?"

"No."

"Alright, continue."

"Is Strider your father?"

"Why would you think that?"

"Because you called him that."

"It's none of your business. Here." I dug into one of my deep Rangery pockets, sewed on curtesy of Esgalnoron, and pulled out a carrot.

"Thanks!" Pippin cried in ecstasy, swallowing it in a few gulps.

That should keep him quiet for a few moments.

"Fey?"

I sighed.

"Yes?"

:::::::::::::::::::

Weathertop was exceedingly dark at night, I noticed as the Hobbits began building a fire for supper.

"What's cooking, Sam?" I coughed gruffly, Sam was already suspicious, so I tried my best to act manly.

"Not much, sausages, vegetables-"

"Oh no, not vegetables again!" Pippin wailed, gazing at the handful of greens angrily.

"You like 'em Mister Took, don't try to deny it. You eat 'em every day, no complaints." Sam growled, beginning to carefully cook his sausages.

::::::

The Hobbits were asleep, all curled up around the campfire.

"Da?" I whispered, peeking under his hood.

"Don't do that! You surprised me... Yes, what?"

"Can I go off into the woody part over there for a moment, I need to re-bind." There was no way I would risk re-binding my breasts anywhere near my ever vigilant Hobbit friends.

"Alright, but be careful, the Black Riders are near."

"I know, I will be, don't worry." I tugged at his hair playfully before tripping off into the darkness.

After I was a short way away I unlaced my tunic and began unbinding. I had just finished, and was preparing to rebind, when I froze, hearing a noise. I threw on my unlaced tunic, leaving my binding laying on a stump, a cold fear filling me.

Slowly, I raised my head from my work, chills running up and down my body.

The dark trees surrounded me, but then something darker emerged.

I bit back a scream, caught unawares, unarmed, and a short distance away from aid.

The black rider approached me, slowly, it's dark robes swishing behind it.

And then I had one of those crazy adrenaline-rush impulses I get sometimes.

Without thinking, I threw myself at it, wrapping my arms around its neck and shoulders and squeezing, pressing myself against it, locking it in combat. It squealed shrilly in surprise before flailing wildly. I bounced up, wrapping my legs around its middle, throwing myself forward, pushing it to the ground where I rolled, wrestling wildly with the dark creature.

But my advantage due to surprise was soon over and it overpowered me, rising up, leaving me on the ground.

I reached and grabbed a large stick, whacking it over the head with all my might. It shrieked, grabbing its head before running away, frenzied, leaving me in a dazed trance.

"Help!"

Pippin. There must be more.

Tightening my grip on my impromptu weapon I tore back through trees and ruins.

"Pippin! Don't worry!" I screeched, breaking through the greenery and into our camp.

I froze in shock.

Black riders filled the clearing, as did the fire Thorongil was wielding.

Pippin and Merry were waving their swords wildly, while Sam was searching frantically for Frodo, who wasn't to be seen.

Hefting my weapon I rushed over to my Hobbity friends, leaping in front of them, nearly nocking the dark monster's head off of its shoulders.

"Watch out!" Merry squealed, and we all ducked, barely missing being torched by my over-energetic father.

"HELP! SOMETHING'S WRONG WITH MISTER FRODO!" Sam wailed as Thorongil dispatched the last Black Rider, bringing us all running.

Something was definitely wrong with Frodo. He looked to be in incredible pain, moaning and writhing, clutching at his shoulder.

"What happened?" My fathers voice was low and urgent as he knelt down by the Hobbit, taking light hold of his shoulders.

"He stabbed me." Frodo choked, grimacing in pain.

Thorongil's brows furrowed worriedly.

"Hurry, we must get to Rivendell."

With that, he hoisted Frodo onto Bill the Pony, bidding Sam to watch him.

And we hurried on.

"What were those _things_?" Merry whispered in horror, gazing at Frodo with intense anxiety.

"I do not know, but they are evil. Strider knows though, I'm sure of it." I whispered back, picking up my pace in hopes of arriving in Rivendell sooner.

"Ha! Look at that, Fey, you forgot to lace up your tunic." Pippin giggled mischievously pulling one of the dangling straps so tight that I gasped.

Suddenly his arm fell, his eyes huge, his jaw dropped.

"Fey...is that...you can't be..."

I looked down, and realized that now the tunic, terribly tight, completely silhouetted my unbound form.

"Pippin! Ugh, this is no time for jesting." I growled, deftly re-lacing my tattered tunic, wrapping my arms around myself.

"But you must be! It explains everything-"

I quickly cupped a hand around Merry's mouth in an attempt to silence him.

"Don't tell anyone!" I growled, grabbing them both by the shoulders and shaking them hard.

"Does Strider know?"

"Of course, now, be. quiet."

"Why are you disguised?"

"Because men don't think women are good fighters, they don't want them in danger, they think they need protection, you know."

"Actually, I know for a fact that women are very dangerous, my my, you do not want to get on Rosie Cotton's bad side!" Pippin piped up, while Merry laughed half-heartedly at the memory.

"Now, you two, solemnly swear, never, never to tell anyone. Strider shouldn't even know that you know, because I was supposed to keep this a secret, all right?"

"We swear, but, as long as we're learning your secrets...what's your real name?"

"Nice try."

"What are those beads?"

"Nope."

"How old are you?"

"Do Hobbits never give up?"

"Who's Esgalnowhatsit?"

"Never met him. _Hey_, how do you know that name?"

"Ha! You know him! You do!"

"Be quiet."

"Alright. What's Strider's real name?"

"PIPPIN!"

"Will you three be quiet back there? This is very serious!" Thorongil growled, shooting us a signature death glare with toppings.

::::::::::::

Everything was relatively silent in the camp that evening, save for Frodo's moaning.

He was laid against a tree with Sam sitting by him.

Merry was doing his best to make up a dinner, since Sam was too preoccupied. Thorongil was snoring against a tree, I had convinced him he needed sleep and that I would look after things for a few hours.

Pippin was sitting on a rock, deep in thought, while I was resting on the ground, fondling the every-shiny beads gently, thoughts far off in Rohan.

And then the relative peace was broken as Pippin sauntered over and plopped down beside me.

"I think I've figured out who Esgalnowhatsit is." He whispered excitedly into my ear, making me jump.

"Oh really?"

"Yes. A brother."

"Wrong." I smiled smugly.

Pippin smiled smugger.

"Hah! You fell into my trap! Muahahaha! So, he is not your brother..."

A short contemplative silence followed.

"Aha! A father!"

"Wrong again."

"Oooh, wait, I know." Pippin snickered evilly.

"A lover."

"What!? No!" I squealed indignantly, glaring balefully at him.

A naughty smile spread across his face.

"So, a lover...hmm...out of curiosity, how many children will you be having together?"

"Pippin!"

I slammed a hand over his mouth so fast that I bowled him over.

He went down with a squeak before popping right back up, his naughty grin increased ten-fold.

"What does he look like?" The little trouble-maker asked innocently, eyelashes fluttering. "Is he handsome? He must be handsome. And tall. I bet he has a really manly beard-thing going on, like Strider, but manlier."

I shook my head, but allowed Pippin to continue.

"What color hair does he have? Does he wear it long? Or short? Probably somewhere in between. And, hmm, is his hair black like yours? Aww, that would be cute, then you guys would match! And muscle, hmm, better have lots of that...Ooh! And I bet he has some really neat scars too! And his face...perfectly defined...every feature-"

"That's quite enough, Pippin. Honestly, he's just a regular person."

"-stunningly handsome-hmm, what did you say?-his legs...perfectly toned-"

I decided it would be cruel to interrupt Pippin's ramblings and give him the hard truth: that Esgalnoron looked just like the next person.

Better just to keep Pippin's face in the clouds, for now.

"Better go wake up Strider, it's past when he told me to." I mumbled to nobody in particular, limping over to my snoring father.

"Hello-oh, wake u-up." I whispered enticingly.

More snores.

Suddenly I had a humorous idea. I'd never figured out quite why, but Thorongil always got a sort of dreamy look in his eye at the mention of Luthien, he sang her song all the time. It was rather hilarious to think that he was in love with a character of legend.

"What is that glimmer of light! Oh! Goodness me, the lady _Luthien _has arrived." I sung dreamily into his ear.

"Hmm? What, what? Arwen?" My father choked on his own snore, eyes snapping open.

I tried to keep a straight face.

"Oh, excuse me, finally you have awoken. Come, it is getting late."

Thorongil glared at me suspiciously before rising and stretching.

"And we're off." He sighed, gathering up everyone and striding from the clearing.

"Come on, Pippin." I sighed, shaking his shoulder, dragging him from his musings.

"-and strong arms-Fey? Oh, yes, ahem, coming."

I smirked.

"Yes, we have a long way to go yet."

"Will you promise to invite me to you and Esgalnowhatsit's wedding?"

"Come on you silly Hobbit."

**PLEASE REVIEW. IF EVERYONE WHO READ THIS STORY REVIEWED IT, THE WORLD WOULD BE A BETTER PLACE.**

**:),**

**~Thurin**


	12. Chapter 12

**Here I is again. :)))**

The sun had sunk and the moon was rising. Darkness flooded the forest, the only sound being crickets chirping and boots(and bare feet!) treading through the leafmold.

I was so tired, and sore. My ankles spasmed with a sharp pain at each step, but I pressed my lips tightly together and kept going.

I felt so grouchy I could throw a Gondorian vase at Frodo's head, no regrets.

The night was too dark, Frodo was moaning too loudly. Even the soft song of the crickets managed to get on my nerves. My temper broke so easily, sometimes it frightened me. My anger made me long for Esgalnoron even more, somehow being with him always eased my temper in a way, I wanted him so badly.

At a grunt from my father they all lay down, taking a brief rest.

Wordlessly I sat on the edge of the group, drawing my knees up to my chest and taking watch while the others slept.

I felt a warm tear trickle down my cheek, to my lips, were I tasted the bitter salt.

None of this was fair at all, no one should have to deal with this.

Everyone always got to be with the person they loved most, why not me?

And then I thought about it, and I realized: Finduilas had died when I was born, far too soon for Denethor. Rainor hadn't seen his dear brother in five years. Amathron hadn't seen his wife and children for more. It looked like I wasn't the only one.

But that only made me more angry.

I bit my lip so hard it bled, and tore the blades of grass around me with my fingers in anger. I could just get up right now. I could just get up right now and run off through the forest, run until I found him, I really could. But life didn't work that way, I wasn't going to get up.

Three more tears glistened down my face. Today, or some time near this day, was my birthday. I was thirty-one now, barely an adult in the life of a Dunedain.

Back in camp, when all had been well, Esgalnoron had always made my birthday a big deal. So had everyone; my birthday, and everyone else's, had always been an event.

No one knew today was my birthday, the Hobbits had no clue and Thorongil was so worried and focused on this mission, it was understandable he forgot. He probably had forgotten what month it was, that's just how he was during important things like this.

But still, it hurt.

I struggled to remember Esgalnoron's face, down to every detail, as a picture in my mind.

It was faded, blurry.

I buried my face in my hands, unbelieving.

I just cried silently like that for a long time, I don't know how long, maybe thirty minutes, maybe two hours.

When my well of tears finally dried up and wiped my eyes on my sleeves and leant back against the large inviting trunk of a tree.

I imagined what it would be like if Esgalnoron and I lived together in a house.

And then I went a little further and imagined what it would be like if...he told me he loved me...if maybe...we were married?

I wondered what it would be like to hold my baby, and look down at its face and see Esgalnoron there.

I wondered what it would be like to walk through Minas Tirith with him, hand-in-hand, gazing fondly at his enormous murals covering the large white walls.

And then I picked up a rock and hurled it at a tree across from me as hard as I could, because that would never happen.

And then I talked to myself about the unfairness of the world for the rest of the night.

:::::::::::::::::

Frodo was doing terribly. So terribly, we were all afraid he wouldn't live through another night.

"Thurin, watch Frodo. I must search for Athelas." Thorongil whispered urgently, touching my shoulder lightly.

I forced a smile on my cracked lips, catching his hand for a moment.

"It will be alright, Da. You are a skilled healer."

"Not skilled enough." He growled, hurrying off into the trees, harshly kicking opposing brambles aside.

A loud moan from Frodo brought me back from my tumultuous thoughts.

Rushing over I knelt down beside him, brushing back his dark sweaty hair.

He was barely conscious now, eyes rolling back dazedly.

I gripped his cold hand in my own, squeezing gently. I felt so angry, so powerless.

And then I heard a sound in the bushes.

I whirled around, drawing my blade so fast it nearly fell from my grasp.

"Hold, it is only me." My father stepped from the greenery, extended his hand carefully.

Everything about him looked calmer, it was strange. Slowly, I lowered my blade, hands shaking.

"Don't scare me like that again." I growled, taking a step back.

Thorongil stepped into the moonlight, followed by the most beautiful lady I had ever laid eyes on. Now, I had seen only several other females in my remembered life. I had gotten glimpses in Minas Tirith, but I had never conversed with them. I think my mouth must have fallen open.

Her long dark hair flew in waves behind her, she practically shimmered with a light of her own.

As she and my father hurried past me, I noticed that her ears were delicately pointed. An Elf.

I had never met one of those either.

"Fey,"

I tore my gaze away, and fixed it on my father.

"Take Sam, Merry, and Pippin and hurry, I will join you shortly."

I nodded mutely, grabbing Pippin's arm and hurrying to retrieve Sam before he murdered Strider for taking Frodo away from him.

"Where are we going? Who's she?" Pippin whispered worriedly as he motioned for Merry to come.

"I don't know-come on, Sam!-Pippin, just follow." I hissed, herding my indignant hobbity friends away.

Several minutes later we were joined by my father, who looked as if he had just stepped out of a cloud.

"Da?"

"Hmm...what? Fey...ah yes...what was it you were saying?" His face was bright red, I resisted the urge not to snicker.

"What now? Who was she? Where is Frodo?" I demanded, holding back a blood-thirsty Sam.

"She is taking him to Rivendell, they are trying to out-run the black riders."

I shuddered.

"What of us?"

"We make for Rivendell as fast as we can, and try to stay alive."

"Ah, alright. Let's go."

Thorongil scooped up Merry and Pippin, and began running through the woods.

I grabbed Sam's wrist and dragged him after.

"What are we doing?" I screamed, trying to catch up.

"We are trying to divert the attention of the black riders, hurry."

"They won't buy it."

"I know, but it might buy Frodo a little time."

And we ran through the dark night, barely being able to think as the cold wind whipped by us, wildly hoping Frodo would be alright.

**Will they make it to Rivendell? Will Frodo be alright? Will I be able to update AT ALL during November as I participate in National Novel Writing Month? Hopefully! Tune in soon to catch the next adventure!**

**PLEASE REVIEW**

**Hannon le,**

**~Thurin**


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